


Attraction is a Dangerous Thing; Love is Downright Treacherous

by ipraytoangelcastiel, thegirlwholikesassbutts (ipraytoangelcastiel)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: (But Sherlock is definitely a bottom like wow), Abusive Parents, Also Mycroft is at Uni most of the fic, Also things get a tad kinky, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Bottoming from the Top, Cussing, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Gay Bashing, Homophobic Language, I really can't tag for every smut scene, John's father is physically abusive, John's gay for Sherlock only, M/M, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Rimming, Role play fic, Schmoop, Sherlock Being a Tease, Sherlock only ever liked John, Sherlock's parents mentally and somewhat-physically abused Sherlock and Mycroft, Tasha is really shitty at tagging I'm sorry, Topping from the Bottom, Virgin Sherlock, We don't meet Sherlock's parents, and Bottom!Sherlock, and Greg and him live together already, and much angst, and there is also, bottom!John, but I can tell you there is, but eventually things are fluffy and happy, but only with Sherlock's car and choice in music, but there isn't any bdsm-y stuff, but there you go, but we do meet John's, he's also an asshole, jock!John Watson, just Sherlock has a kink for biting is all, like wow the smut, punk!Sherlock, really a whole lot of smut, there are too many, there will also be smut, there's also a tad bit of crossover into SPN, there's fluff too, top!John, top!Sherlock, um, we regret nothing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-08
Updated: 2013-08-22
Packaged: 2017-12-22 18:59:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 43,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/916879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ipraytoangelcastiel/pseuds/ipraytoangelcastiel, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ipraytoangelcastiel/pseuds/thegirlwholikesassbutts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi! This is Tasha, and I'm sharing our roleplay with you guys! Jur and I started this months and months ago, never planning for it to get as long as it has(seriously you don't even know how much catching up we have to do), and recently I asked her if maybe we could post it online. She said yes, and I'm glad because I really think this is a gem. It's not Beta'd per se, other than what she and I have edited ourselves, so feel free to message us about any errors in spelling or grammar(or tense, because sometimes that gets away from me).</p>
<p>I play Sherlock in this fic, and she plays John. The first chapter isn't explicit, but trust me, this fic gets very explicit, and I will tag each chapter for any smut that appears in them. </p>
<p>We hope you enjoy, and comments are welcome!</p>
<p>Find us on Tumblr <a href="http://ipraytoangelcastiel.tumblr.com/">here</a> or <a href="http://thegirlwholikesassbutts.tumblr.com/">here</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is Tasha, and I'm sharing our roleplay with you guys! Jur and I started this months and months ago, never planning for it to get as long as it has(seriously you don't even know how much catching up we have to do), and recently I asked her if maybe we could post it online. She said yes, and I'm glad because I really think this is a gem. It's not Beta'd per se, other than what she and I have edited ourselves, so feel free to message us about any errors in spelling or grammar(or tense, because sometimes that gets away from me).
> 
> I play Sherlock in this fic, and she plays John. The first chapter isn't explicit, but trust me, this fic gets very explicit, and I will tag each chapter for any smut that appears in them. 
> 
> We hope you enjoy, and comments are welcome!
> 
> Find us on Tumblr [here](http://ipraytoangelcastiel.tumblr.com/) or [here](http://thegirlwholikesassbutts.tumblr.com/).

Sherlock sighed as he loped into the quiet room, a pad of art paper and two pencils in his hands. He quickly signed himself in, his bracelets making shivery noises against the desk as he wrote with his loopy scrawl. Then, he folded himself into a desk, immediately flipping to a fresh page to begin drawing.

For John detention wasn't a common thing, yet it was not so rare either. But the boy could never get there on time. Not that the teacher cared, she was barely in the room anyway. Walking through the quiet halls, the sandy haired boy let his fingers rattle along lockers, before heavily pushing the door open to the classroom, this being the last place he wanted to be. The teacher sent him a glare for the fact that he was late, but all John could do was smirk a little and wink as he signed himself in, and sat at a desk to the left of the boy already there, eyeing the work he was doing blatantly.

Sherlock's shoulders tightened slightly at the other boy's stare, preparing himself to be called the inevitable, _Faggot_ , _Cocksucker_ , or _Ladypants_  that he had heard so many times. He never turned to meet the boy's eyes, wishing he could cover up his sketch of the naked man before he was taunted for it. But it was too late, it had already been seen, and he simply continued to sketch, adding giant black wings to the background.

To say that he wasn't shocked by the drawing wouldn't be the truth, it was weird seeing such a vivid sketch of naked masculinity. He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning into the boys personal space. "Nice dick." John smirked at the weird-looking boy next to him, feeling like he should have seen him around, but really, he had never paid much attention. A social life always called to John. "Is the wings some kind of fetish? That's wrong dude." He snorted, yet he watched the other boy's hand move on the page as he drew.

"No." Sherlock responded quietly, his long fingers never stilling on the page. "It's from a dream I had last night. A very peculiar dream." Once the words were said, his mind supplied all the reasons why that could be taken sexually. "Non-sexual." He added as an afterthought, sketching out smoke billows and chimney stacks in the far distance behind the man.

John's eyebrows rose, because _of course_  he was going to take that sexually, chuckling lightly under his breath, the sandy-haired boy looked amused. "Then why is the angel guy naked?" He asked, because really, that was the only out of place thing on that drawing, which he had to admit was impressive. "You know... You shouldn't say that kind of shit to people, some may take it worse than others." John didn't mention that that might be him or his own friends. Though he was sure the guy was perceptive enough to tell.

"The _angel guy's_ name is Asmodeus, and he is a demon. I am not certain why he appeared naked this time, but... Perhaps it has something to do with feeling vulnerable." Sherlock responded, finishing off the sketch with a sweep of his thumb and his signature. "I realize this." He says, noting that the boy was clearly holding _something_  back.

John listened to the words coming from his mouth, not knowing what any of that meant, and not knowing something always frustrated him. He supposed he just didn't like accepting weakness in himself. "You... Are really weird." John snorted. "Do you tell everyone about your crazy little dreams?" Because if the dark-haired boy did... He wondered why John hadn't seen him being beaten up around school. Maybe he was busy with a girl, but who knew.

"You think being called weird is the worst you can do?" Sherlock asks, snapping his pad shut before looking the other boy straight in the eyes. "Because it isn't. Don't pretend you don't know about me, about my _preferences_ , about how your oafs have cornered me after school so many times that I've lost count. Don't pretend you don't know about me. I've been called weird, certainly. But I've also been called faggot, loser, cocksucker, pansy, and multiple other names that you couldn't possibly wrap your dull little head around." Sherlock's hands ball into fists, and he takes two deep breaths before pinching the bridge of his nose. "No, I don't often tell others about my dreams. Just leave me alone." He whispered, just wanting the boy who makes him feel so vulnerable to turn away, walk out of his life. 

John didn't flinch as the other boy gave his little speech. He's heard it all before, probably right before he shoved someone into a locker, but alas. He cocked an eyebrow. "Well, now I know about your preferences." John listened to all the names he's been called. "And you are telling me they aren't true? Since a lot of them are quite literal to your... Preference, as you put it." He snickered a little, completely unfased. "If you don't want to get cornered after school, don't give shitty little speeches basically declaring that you're a fairy. Jesus." John leans back in his chair, not surprised that the teacher was no longer in the room. "Well then, I am blessed to have heard what's inside your head." The boy's tone could not have been any more sarcastic

"You want to see a fairy?" Sherlock snapped, flipping his book open before sketching out an Honest-to-God fairy. " _That's_  a fucking fairy." He said. "And I see that you haven't been told that just because someone likes both sexes, but prefers the same sex, that they aren't any less of a human. I have never even _kissed_  a boy, made a single _pass_  at a boy, and yet I am physically and mentally abused for my openness."

John watched the anger on the male's face as he drew the fairy thing, and he could not keep the amused expression off his features. "Very nice. Kinda looks like you..." John teased, just to irk the boy more, because really, he was bored and he sure as hell wasn't getting any work done. John had to cock an eyebrow at the contradictory statements from the boy. "Then how do you know that you even like boys? If you've never looked at one and got a boner?"

"I _have_  done that. Gotten an... Erection by looking at a boy." Sherlock replies, sighing. "But I've never acted on my feelings. I am not a pervert."

John snorts and tilts his head. "That's a fucking lie. I don't see how drawing dicks isn't perverted."

"I don't feel sexually attracted to my drawing. As you can see." He says, gesturing to his crotch area, which was without any signs of arousal. "I am not drawing it for pornographic purposes, just as the Romans did not paint the human body for pornographic purposes. Well, most of the time." He sighs again, scratching his head. "It is not to 'get my jollies off', it is to draw, to create, to make art."

John rolls his eyes. "Are you trying to get me to look at your cock?" Places his gaze on the male's features and runs a hand through his hair. "Dude, a black dot on a white page is art, and drawing shit like that is creepy... If anyone got a hold of that... You'd most likely get beaten up." He informs him.

"Yes, well that wouldn't be any change in my life." Sherlock responds, rolling one of his dark sleeves to show multiple purple bruises and scratch marks. "It's a daily thing for me. I almost can't physically feel it anymore." At the word physically, his eyes darken. "And this is just one naked drawing. If you think all of my stuff is like that, you are dense."

John eyed the bruises on the male's arms. "Is this meant to make me pity you? You bring it onto yourself." John told him firmly, and shrugged. "I'm not dense, I’m just considering all the possibilities from what I've observed. I don't appreciate you acting superior."

Sherlock rolls his eyes and shoves his sleeve back down. "I bring it on myself? For being truthful about my emotions? I bring this pain upon _myself?_ Oh, do tell me how I could stop bringing this onto myself, please, so that I can see the error in my ways because your friends can't manage to take their suppressed anger from their abusive home lives out on me!" He mutters sarcastically. "That's really rich." He shakes his head angrily. "You don't _observe_  enough. You haven't tipped the iceberg on _observations_. If you had observed anything, you would have noticed all the other pages I had to flip past which were filled with completely different drawings. And I am not _acting_  superior, I clearly am. At least in intellect." Sherlock crosses his arms and sighs, trying to calm down. "Just stop talking to me. It was pointless to begin with."

"This is high school, not a fucking TV drama, calm your tits and pretend to be straight for the sake of your health?" He sneers at him for being so dramatic, and then cocks his head. "Seriously? Do you really think I fucking care what kind of queer fantasies you've got in that little book?" John snorts and moves to grab it before he can get it. "If you insist, Mr. Intellect. If you were clever, you'd avoid getting beaten into a pulp." The boy rolls his eyes, moving swiftly through pages of the art book, eyes not settling on a drawing for more than a few seconds.

Sherlock's hands curl into fists, itching to reach out and strangle the other boy. "Just give me my art pad back, and I will be on my way." He responds, voice quiet but intense.

John snorts and keeps flipping through the pages. "You're in detention. What did you get in for anyway? Sucking cock behind the bleachers?" He looks at him innocently, and offers a small smile that is nowhere near friendly.

Sherlock stands, and his hands slam down on the other boy's desk, his face now inches away from the blonde's. "I am here because your friends decided it would be faster if they beat me during school hours, rather than wait until after. I am here because they were caught by our lovely Headmaster Augustine. I am here because the Headmaster placed all of the blame on my own head, much like you are doing now." He straightens up a little, then adds, "And I told you. I have never done _anything_  with anyone, and if you say one more thing to the effect that I have, you will live to regret it."

"Probably was your own fault, like I said. If you were as intellectual as you say you are, you would keep your cocksucker fantasies to yourself." John taunts further, eyeing his face and listens to his threat, laughing out loud this time, eye filled with mirth. " _I_  will live to regret it? Are you kidding me? You fucking touch me and you won't be walking for weeks."

"You underestimate me, John Watson." Sherlock says, smiling cruelly.

"But do I? Do you actually have any friends? There comes power in groups." He looks at him completely seriously and stands up. "I don't even know your name." He tosses his sketchbook to the ground, letting the papers fly everywhere. "And I don't give a fuck what it is because you're _unimportant_." John smirks maliciously. "I suggest you start picking your shit up."

Sherlock's face goes white with rage. "Yes, but I know the one thing you are most frightened of, little Watson." He smirks at John, his eyes squinting slightly. He doesn't move to pick up his pages, not yet.

John looks at him, and tilts his head. "Oh? And what's that?"

Sherlock steps forward, just barely in John's personal space. "This." He says quietly, before leaning forward and pressing his lips to John's.

John moves his face fractionally back to regain some personal space and then the boy's lips were on his, and he was stunned for a few seconds, stiff posture and not moving, before his body was moving on its own and he was shoving the boy away, his fist flying to catch his cheek in a hard punch, harder than he'd intended, but the noise was satisfying. "What the _fuck!?_ Your life is over, faggot. I mean it." His eyes were filled with rage and his breathing was hard from the exertion of the punch.

Sherlock smiles, a genuine smile without bitterness or cruelty. The pain of the punch goes unnoticed with his new deductions that he had been uncertain of before. "I would believe you if it wasn't for your pants." He says, his observations clicking into place one by one. "There is evidence of an erection. Your pupils are dilated, which often indicates lust or happiness, and occasionally love. Your hands have a slight tremor to them at the moment, lending to the clearness of your suppressed emotions and sexual tensions. Your eyebrows are slightly pulled together, showing your confusion, as well as your curiosity. Also, your heart is beating irregularly at your pulse point, which shows that while this is new to you physically, it is not necessarily new to you mentally. Besides, you would have left if you did not want to stay." Sherlock ends his small speech, crossing his arms as he awaits John's response.

John felt disgust rise in his throat, and he laughed loudly. "Dilated pupils in this case mean anger, the last thing right now I'd have is a fucking boner, and it's not confusion it's anger." John spits at him, blue eyes darkening. He walked closer to the male, this time in his personal space and grabs his face roughly with his hand, digging his nails into his cheek. "You better pray you don't run into me or my friends, because I fucking assure you, you'll break both your arms and legs." His threat is completely serious, and he shoves the boy away from him hard enough to make him fall over, before walking out of the classroom with a hard slam of the door.

Sherlock falls against a desk, momentarily startled by the boy's reaction. Then, he shrugs it off, knowing the boy will return soon enough. If only to grab his backpack, if nothing else. He quietly begins picking up his art papers, glad to see that they seem to have remained in good condition. His cheek burns slightly where the boy scratched him, and he lightly touches it with his fingers. _Maybe I was too pushy..._  He thinks too himself.

\- - - - - -

Snatching the paper from his teacher, John slams the classroom door behind him. There is a name there. Sherlock Holmes. Not a name he's heard of, let alone knows how to pronounce, and that douchebag would have to be his _tutor?_ Clearly, John was not happy about this. However, he made his way to the library nonetheless, eyes darting around to try and see who this Sherlock guy could be, but he couldn't tell.

Sherlock twiddled his thumbs, awaiting whoever the teacher had assigned to him for tutoring. He hadn't received a name, but he knew that it was a rugby player. Easy enough to pick out, as rugby players never hang around the library. His eyes flicked around a fourth time before resting on the form of John Watson. He rolls his eyes and stands up, hoping it isn't him. Sherlock makes his way through the tables before appearing beside John. "Let me see that paper." He whispers, grabbing it out of John's hand. "Shit." he whispers, stomping his boot-clothed foot on the library floor.

John's brows creased as the guy from detention sauntered over to him, and he no longer had a paper in his hand. And then the realisation dawned on him. This was Sherlock Holmes. Oh _Hell_ no. "I'm going to demand a different tutor." He spoke coldly, snatching the paper back. "Because somehow I don't think this is going to work." John snorted, because that was an understatement.

Sherlock spread his hands out. "By all means, little Watson. But be quiet in the library." He whispered tauntingly.

John glared at him, and shoved passed him, moving to sit in a chair, then looked at him in amusement. "Go on then, Mr Intellect, teach me something."

Sherlock quirks an eyebrow, then sits beside John. "Well, here, you see..." He pointed to a worksheet. "The teacher said you needed help mainly with grammar, which is an area that I excel in moreso than other areas of English. So, I wrote down the differences between dependent and independent clauses, how to conjugate verbs correctly in the past, present, future, imperfect, and perfect tenses, as well as a list of ways to avoid comma splices. You can use any of my notes for aide, if you do so choose to remain here as my pupil."

John eyed him as he sat next to him. "You know, there is a chair on the other side of the table." His voice patronising as looked at the worksheet, listening to him with a snort. "That's a load of bullshit that I don't really need to know." He cocks an eyebrow. "Shocking, I didn't think you'd even trust me to spit on you, let alone use your notes."

"It's somewhat difficult to teach from two-and-a-half feet away, John." Sherlock replies. "And sure, you don't really need to know it, since you'll likely either end up working in retail, a fish and chips joint, or the military. My bet's on the military, as you seem to take pride in your health." Sherlock shrugs slightly. ''However, you will need to be able to recognize these things at least, whether you remember them after school is over or not." Sherlock's eyebrows raise. "And I never said anything about trust. It's simply common courtesy."

"I'm not deaf, so no, not really." John sighs in frustration, crossing his arms over his chest. "You pretend to know so much about me, but in reality you know absolutely zero." He scoffs at him and eyes the paper in front of him. "School is bullshit as well, we'd all be better off without it." He doesn't get it, as most of what he wants to do was just rugby. "Common courtesy my ass, you wouldn't know what that was if it kicked you in the face." He says, leaning one of his elbows on the desk, looking bored.

"If you don't at least pretend to cooperate with me, then we will be stuck with each other much, much longer than either of us wants to be." Sherlock folds his arms. "And I can't teach from over there because I'd constantly have to be flipping the pages around to read them. I can't read upside down." He sighs. "I am more polite to you than you, or anyone else here for that matter, has ever been to me."

A malicious smirk spreads across John's lips. "Oh, and I'm sure you'd enjoy that, huh?" Snorts and cocks an eyebrow. "He admits weakness, and here was me thinking you thought yourself God." The blonde shrugs a little. "That's life. It sucks. Get used to it." He rolls his eyes, clearly thinking this Sherlock dude pathetic. "Fine, just give me whatever I need so we can say we had a session. I've got places to be."

Sherlock's eyes narrowed slightly, and he shrugged. "By all means, just take it. Good luck making sense of it without me." Then, his lips pull up slightly at the corners. "But I see right through you."

"You think I'm stupid just cause I don't get some of this bullshit English stuff." John shrugged, it didn't really bother him. The guy could think whatever he wanted of him. John couldn't help but scoff, an amused little smile on his face. "Oh yeah? And what do you see, Sherlock? Hm?"

Sherlock catches the other boy's hand for a bare moment, allowing his emotions to show. "I am offering you solace. That is all. Good luck in your endeavours." He says oh so quietly though there is no longer any one else in the library. He presses a small kiss to the hand and lets it go.

"Solace in what?" John snaps at him, and takes his hand out of his grip. "Why do you want me to be like you? I'm not. And don't ever plan to be." He says, eying him in disdain. "You said you never made a pass at a boy. I think you need to work on the meaning of that, Sherlock."

"I do not pretend. I know everyone's life stories in one glance. It is the lifestyle in my family. We are all highly intelligent, somewhat cold. Though, some such as my brother Mycroft, are less cold than others. We all observe and deduce what we can about any person in any given moment. We were bred for that. For a life dedicated to justice and law, and nothing other than that." He sniffles slightly, tears beginning to slip down his cheeks. "And if I fought back, I would lose control. The... Mask... That I keep for everyone is to hide my pain and anger. If I unleashed, I could probably kill the lot of them. And that would not be good." He wipes uselessly at his eyes with one of the sleeves of his black hoodie. "And I don't know. I don't know why I am doing this. I just hate. I hate myself, everyone around me. I hate my... Orientation. I hate life." He rants quietly, more to himself than to John. The tears flow faster now. "I don't know why, so just--" His words choke off as a sob wracks his chest. "Oh, our family does it's best to smother our emotions. If one of us died, the others would probably dress in black for the reasonable amount of time, and then proceed as normal." Sherlock shrugs. "To deduce, you must first know the intricacies of human behaviourisms. Memorize them, and then when you need the information, use it. It's really quite simple, but most people do not use enough of their brain on a daily basis to recall these things."

"That... Sounds terrible." He admits, since he has a fairly loving family. Then, he listens to the next part. "What do you use the information for? Crime?"

"It is terrible, I suppose, from a normal person's stand point." And then, "We use it to control the British government and uphold or enforce the law. My brother Mycroft will soon hold 'a small place in the British government', but that really means that he will own it. You see, they need my family. My family is primed for our IQ's, our intelligence, our genius. Without my family, the British government might as well be a pile of ashes." He stops suddenly. "I'm not even supposed to tell you these things. Good day, and good luck on your English." With that, he grabs his backpack and begins walking toward the exit of the library.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm posting the second chapter now in case anyone is planning on seeing this through.
> 
> Comments are much appreciated, feedback is very helpful! Also, thanks very much to those of you who have left Kudos and bookmarked us! Much appreciated. <3
> 
> This chapter is when things start happening between John and Sherlock, the first smut scene/their first time, some angsty feelings and such. Enjoy!
> 
> Find us on Tumblr [here](http://ipraytoangelcastiel.tumblr.com/) or [here](http://thegirlwholikesassbutts.tumblr.com/).

Pulling up in front of Sherlock's house, John eyed the building, appreciating the size and luxury of it. He himself didn't lack money, but this was something to be admired. Getting out of the car, John locked the door and slung his bag over his shoulder. He walks towards the house and rings the doorbell once there, a little nervous to be in this boy’s house.

Sherlock's head snaps up from his reverie as the chiming noise echoes through the entrance. He unfolds himself from the couch, having accidentally left scratch marks on it with the studs on his boots. He walks to the door, rolling the black sleeves of his turtleneck up on his way. He unlatches the door and turns the knob to see the blonde boy on the stoop. "Hello, John." He says in a friendly tone, the boys having grown less uneasy with each other in the last few weeks. He steps back and gestures inside with a sweep of his arm. "Do come in."

He eyes the dark-haired boy for a moment, before nodding. "Hey, sorry I'm late." John shrugs as he walks inside of the house, looking around curiously, and turns back to Sherlock. "Nice place. Does it have a pool?" He asks out of curiosity as he stands in the middle of the room waiting for his next directions, as he had always felt awkward at other people's houses and it was much too quiet in this one.

"It's quite alright," Sherlock responds, shutting and latching the door behind him. "And yes, there is a very large pool out back, the depths ranging from three feet to twenty in a span of multiple meters. Would you like to see it?" He inquires, gesturing for John to just drop his things on the floor beside the couch.

John cocks an eyebrow at the description, and drops his things, nodding. "Sure. Why the hell not." He shrugs and starts walking towards a door he assumes to lead where they need to be.

Sherlock stops John with a hand on his shoulder. "It's this way." He says, pointing down a hall that is to their right. He leads John down the hall, reaching the wooden door at the end. "Be careful when you walk out. The pool begins almost directly outside of this door." He says, remembering when he had stepped one time too many and slipped right into the pool with all of his clothing on. He opens the door and edges to the left of the opening, walking on the two foot section of concrete carefully.

John feels his body stiffen at the touch, and moves forward so there was no more contact, turning to the hall which he was pointed to. The male nods at the directions to be careful, and eyes the pool once they were outside, offering a small smirk. "Really, this thing is a hazard. How many people have drowned in it?" Teases a little and moves to walk around it.

"Well, I nearly did. But everyone else has been fine. I'm not certain why my father wanted it so near the house, as he wears multi-thousand pound three-piece suits on a regular day." Sherlock shrugs slightly, staring at the cool blue surface. "Did you want to swim in it? It's very nice and relaxing, and we have a selection of swim trunks for guests to choose from, if you so desire." He informs John, actually thinking a swim in the pool would help him stop thinking about the blonde boy's lips.

John licks his lips and laughs. "Really? Multi-thousand? Who the fuck pays that much for a suit?" He snorts and tilts his head at his inquiry, running a hand through his hair. "I thought I came over to study?" He points out, and gives him a look.

"I honestly don't understand it much either." Sherlock shrugs, tugging on a curl in his hair. "And yes, you did. However, you expressed interest in the pool, and so I named the options available. Goodness, lighten up a bit." Sherlock feels exasperated. He is uncertain as to what he wants more: To grip the blonde's face and plant a kiss against those beautiful lips that say ugly things, or to simply jump into the pool and allow the water's weight to pull him to the bottom.

John laughed a little bit. "Lighten up? I was teasing, Jesus." He moves back towards the house and shrugs. "Sure, we can swim, though I'm not sure I trust you to keep your hands to yourself." Another joke and a wink, before he was headed back into the building.

Sherlock stands stock still for a moment, rooted to the spot. His shock at John's blasé wink fades slower than it would normally have. He shakes himself slightly, wishing that the blonde boy's comment hadn't shot straight to his pants. He follows John slowly, struggling against the sudden rush of arousal.

John looks around the room he is in, then glances back at the male. "You said you had swim trunks...?" He grins a little bit at him. "Might as well enjoy the nice weather while it lasts."

Sherlock shakes out of his private moment and walks past John, giving him a wide girth. "They are in this dresser, here." He says, pulling a drawer out of a beautiful white dresser. He grabs a pair, not remembering where his own swim trunks were last located. "Feel free to grab whichever one you like." He says, before slipping into an adjoining room to change.

John eyes the dresser. "You've got nice things in this house." He says approvingly and looks inside the dresser, picking some out that look fitting to him. "You have towels right?" He asks as he shuts the door which the male slipped through and changes quickly, waiting for him once he was done.

Sherlock knocks and waits for John's grunt of affirmation that he was decent before stepping out of the room. He nods at the boy's question, and opens another drawer, revealing towels of all shapes, sizes, and textures, all folded neatly. He feels uncomfortable with so many of his bruises and scars showing, but he figures John would either not care or think he deserved them.

John looks blatantly at the boy's bruised body but chooses not to say anything, as there wasn't anything to say. He walks over to him and looks in the drawer, picking out the first towel there and drapes it over his arm, and then grins at the male. "Come on, the last one there is a loser." He teases, before running off in the direction of the pool.

Sherlock brushes off John's weirdness today with a shrug, and, grabbing a towel, he runs to catch up to the shorter boy, gaining on him easily. Sherlock shoots past him easily, flying through the open door and directly into the pool with a smile on his lips.

John rolls his eyes as he was overtaken, and jumps in the moment he was close enough to the pool, as he reached the surface, he rolled his eyes. "You suck and I hate you." He tells him with a nod, running a hand over his face to get the water out of his eyes.

"And you'd be lost without me." Sherlock says before ducking under and swimming to the deep end of the pool. He surfaces again. "It's twenty feet deep over here." He says, pointing to a tile beside him which states the fact. "And I can reach the bottom." He says, before diving down, his arms and wide palms pulling him quickly through the water.

John rolls his eyes. "Fuck you, the only thing you've done is help me with some English. That's hardly being lost." He floats in the water for a moment before swimming over to where the male is. He considers telling him it's a bad idea to go all the way to the bottom, but lets him, waiting for him to come back up. "Such an idiot."

Sherlock reaches the bottom and pushes off of it, not having noticed that the boy had moved because his eyes were closed. He surfaces shortly, and breathes in deep, wiping at his eyes before opening them to catch John's. He gasps at their close proximity and quickly pushes back.

John’s eyes widen a little as Sherlock comes out of the water, and he's so very close, then sighs in relief when the boy pushed away and smirks. "Impressive. How come you haven't tried out for the swim team?" He asks while moving to float on his back in the water.

Sherlock's eyebrow quirks at the boy's sigh of relief, and he stows the knowledge away for the future. "I haven't because that would completely ruin swimming for me. Not only would it turn swimming into competition, but it would bring the attention of the asshole swim team to me as well, what with the scanty dress code."

John looks at him skeptically and snickers. "Not that you'd dislike the attention of the scantily clad swim team, Sherlock." He teases and moves to lean against the side of the pool, his feet dangling in the water. "I have this feeling that you might try to drown me."

"That I...?" Sherlock says quietly, his face going ghost pale. He swims to where John is, getting very near him, and grips the boy's shoulders. "I want you to know that I would _never_ do that." He says, shaking the boy very slightly with his horror. " _Never_. Do you understand?" He says vehemently before releasing the boy and moving back.

The male feels a little taken aback, and just stares at the dark-haired boy with wide eyes. "Dude, it was just a vibe, chill." He tells him. "I know you're not gonna kill me." He puts his hands up in a surrender-like motion. John eyes him skeptically. "Touchy." He murmurs and sighs, swimming away from him slowly to the other end of the pool.

Sherlock sighs, one hand reaching out of the water to brush his curls off of his forehead. He sinks beneath the water silently and begins doing the most difficult stroke, the butterfly. He does it seamlessly, gliding through the water swiftly and almost easily.

The blonde leans against the back of the pool, watching the other male do his tricks, impressed. From the outside, it would not seem like he could do anywhere near as much as he was doing right there. His eyes followed the boy's every move from the end of the pool, soaking up the sun.

Sherlock reaches the far wall and does a quick flip turn, gliding through the water before surfacing quickly to take a breath. He continues his laps, the water bringing him peace, easing his troubled thoughts.

"You look very at home in the water." John comments as he keeps watching the tricks. "But something tells me you're trying to show off." He chuckles and hoists himself onto the edge of the pool to sit on it, his feet dangling in the water.

Sherlock, having paused to catch his breath, treads water and looks at the other boy. "I thought you wanted to swim?" He says. "There's room enough for the both of us, if you hadn't noticed." He gestures with his palm at the width of the massive pool.

John swings his feet in the water and shrugs. "So? Maybe I like to just dip my feet in." He snorts and casts an amused look over the boy.

Sherlock rolls his eyes, suddenly tired. "Yes, well. That sounds utterly boring." He replies, flipping onto his back to look at the blue sky. He sighs happily, the endorphins from the exercise giving him a rush.

John laughs and looks to the side for a moment. "For all you know, I may want a tan. I can hardly do that in the water, can I?" He kicks some water around, leaning back on his hands and watches the male.

Sherlock doesn't even respond, simply humming happily, a new violin composition running through his mind. He hums quietly, calmly going over the different possibilities as he feels the sun tingle comfortably on his sore skin.

"You're weird." John comments absent-mindedly, closing his eyes for a few moments as he soaks up the sun. "But I thought you’d be weirder when we first met." He chuckles lightly, licking his lips. "Well done for proving me kind of wrong."

"Um, thank you, I suppose." Sherlock responds, eyes still closed.

John laughs and nods. "That wasn't completely a compliment, but there you go." He grins and moves to get back in the water, swimming steadily to the other end of the pool. "Are you gonna show me the other rooms in the house?"

"If you wanted a tour, you should have asked earlier. Though, I suppose yes. You'll need to see the bathrooms at least, to take a shower so that the chlorine will not damage your hair. And I could show you the recreational rooms, the exercise rooms, and a few of the bedrooms. But certain areas of the grounds are off-limits." Sherlock sighs, his mind losing the notes of the composition at the thought of John and him alone in his own room. He sinks down to hide his erection, returning to his laps.

"Well sorry, you're the one who suggested the pool." He reminds him, and nods. "Yep. I wanna see your room though, I bet it's all filled with coffins and cobwebs." Teases with a laugh, and tilts his head. "Why off-limits? Dead bodies?" He jokes with a snort.

"My bedroom is perfectly normal, save for the art and compositions covering the walls, which are white, if you were wondering whether they were some dark color like... Black, or purple." Sherlock responds, resting a moment. "And the dead bodies comment... While that isn't exactly unlikely, it is also not very discreet."

"...Unlikely?" John repeats at him and his eyes widen. "Um... Are there dead bodies in your house, Sherlock?"

Sherlock's eyes fly open, and he silently damns himself for telling the other boy so much. "It's possible. My entire family works for the government. Is the government. I told you this." He says, figuring it would be useless to stop talking now.

"Yeah, but he government hardly goes around killing or if not, storing dead bodies." He counters. "I'm still trying to figure out whether this is a really bad joke, or actually true."

"You would be surprised as to what the government does or does not do, little Watson." Sherlock says. "They cover things up easily. It is simply a matter of using the right pawns in their little game." He adds, glad he had decided against a government job.

"I wouldn't joke about something as serious as this, John." He continues, his eyes wide. "Jesus, why would anyone?"

"Oh I don't know, some people just like sick jokes." John tells him coldly and bites his lower lip. "Why are you telling me all this then?"

"I don't know." The brunette responds. He shrugs, feeling defeated. "I don't know."

"For someone who says he's so clever, you sure don't know a lot of things." John points out and gives him a look. "It's actually quite funny to watch."

Sherlock's eyes widen slightly. "Really? I... Amuse you?" He hadn't realized this previously, and the admission has him even more confused than before. "But... Why? What is so amusing?"

John cocks an eyebrow. "Because as perceptive as you are, you can be rather clueless sometimes." He tells him quietly and smiles. "And it appears you don't know what's appropriate to say to someone."

Sherlock stops treading water for a moment and simply flounders, at a loss as his body reacts to John's statement. His mouth opens and closes a few times before he manages to blurt out a quiet, "Really?"

"No one's ever told you that?" He asks him as if that is hard to believe and shrugs.

"But clueless to what, exactly?" Sherlock asks, eyebrows drawing together.

"Point proven." He winks and swims back to the edge. "Come on, you can give me that tour now."

Sherlock smiles an awkward, confused smile, relenting and getting out of the water. "Alright." He says quietly. "There's a bathroom down the hall and to the left with fresh towels, so you can go ahead and shower. I am, anyway. I will meet you back in the living room."

John nods and walks slowly back towards the building, the water running down his back as he grabs the towel he was given on the way, and heads for the room he was directed to, closing the door behind him and strips to take his shower, but realises he forgot his clothes, so opens the door a crack. "Umm... Sherlock... Mind tossing me my clothes?"

Sherlock's whole body tightens at the thought, and he walks hurriedly to the room where John's clothes are. "Could you please have the courtesy of remembering them next time, John? Because I only have so much self control." He says agitatedly, pushing the clothes at the blonde.

John snorts and waves his hand about to get the clothes. "Not my fault you can't keep your dick in your pants."

Sherlock sighs. "It isn't my fault that you encourage it." He says, stepping away.

"I do no such thing." He tells Sherlock and shuts the door, dressing quickly before coming out. "It just slipped my mind to get my clothes. Happens to everyone." He smirks a little.

Sherlock huffs, his hormones making it hard to think. "You would think that, in the home of a homosexual boy, you would be more valiant in keeping track of our clothing."

John tilts his head and eyes him. "Well now I've got all my clothes back on, such a shame." Scoffs before heading into the room where his bag was.

A... Shame...? Sherlock says to himself. "Please, please be clear with me when I ask you this question." He says, looking John dead in the eye. "Are you flirting with me?" He asks, frightened of the answer.

John looks at him and his face straightens. "I'm not gay." Tells him. "I just like to tease, or didn't you know that yet?"

Sherlock rolls his eyes. "Of course I knew that, you twit. But you never answered my question."

"I thought it would have been clear. No, I am not flirting with you, as you seem to have an extra body part that is not to my liking." He tells him with a sarcastic little smile, a bit frightened that he might be lying.

"Are you certain?" Sherlock asks, stepping close to the boy. His heart pounds in his chest and his breathing becomes heavier as his eyes focus in on the boy's pupils. He watches them carefully, trying to gauge John's reaction.

John holds his breath and his eyes follow Sherlock's movements, swallowing a little. "Of course I am certain." He narrows his eyes at him.

"Oh really?" Sherlock responds, stooping so close that their noses almost touch. "And so what would you do if I kissed you?" He asks, voice utterly calm. His heart pulses hard, and he can hear it in his ears. He swallows, struggling to keep himself calm.

John keeps his gaze, and glances at the boy's lips as he mentions a kiss. "Probably punch you in the face again." He tells him quietly, leaning back just a fraction.

Sherlock smiles, noticing the direction John's eyes had flicked. "I'm not certain you are confident in that statement. I think I will put it to the test. An experiment, if you will." He says quietly, before tilting his head and pressing his lips to the shorter boy's.

John’s eyes stay open as their lips touch, and he places his hands on the other boy's chest before pushing him away a little. "I - I've never kissed a boy okay…"

"Neither have I." Sherlock reminds John. "But I'd like to. And I am having trouble believing you wouldn't." He leans forward once more, his nose brushing John's. Their lips are mere centimetres apart, and he waits for the boy to lean in.

John chuckles and shakes his head. "Let me rephrase that... I've never even thought about kissing a boy." He feels himself hold his breath when their noses touch and swallows, surprised at the fact that he wasn't moving away, afraid to move an inch either way.

"Well, you sure are thinking now." Sherlock breaths, allowing his lips to barely brush against John's with the words. His eyes lock with the blonde's, unblinking, as he wills the boy to give in.

"You wanna bet on that?" He closes his eyes when Sherlock's lips brush against his own, and leans forward to just press them together a little more firmly, but still so very uncertainly.

Sherlock makes a quiet noise of surprise, and then allows his lips to finally explore the other boy's. He smiles slightly, hands reaching up to cup the back of the blonde's head.

John kisses back a little stiffly, his hands still on the other boy's chest, gripping his shirt as he pulled back, a little breathless. "Fuck... What the hell am I doing?"

"Allowing yourself to have some fun." Sherlock says, hands still in John's hair. He smiles a little, his insides flip flopping.

John shakes his head. "This isn't... fun." He narrows his eyes, and licks his lips. "It's... Frightening." He tells him quietly, and his gaze turns cold for a second. "Whatever happens... it stays here, alright?"

Sherlock nods quickly. "What you want kept between us will be kept between us. I don't exactly have friends, anyway." He smiles reassuringly, and then whispers, "And it's scary for me too."

"I know, and no one would believe you anyway." John breathes and nods, before kissing him hard. He kisses like he would kiss a girl, deeply and passionately, wrapping his arms around the boy’s neck.

Sherlock is shocked at the sudden change in the boy, but adjusts quickly, one hand grasping the back of John's head, the other moving to his back. He gasps slightly, his mouth opening up to John.

John runs a hand through the boy’s dark hair, not really sure he was doing. He treats it the same as he would with a girl, taking the male's lower lip between his teeth gently and tugging on his hair lightly, but expertly.

Sherlock moans quietly, his left hand grabbing at the back of John's sweater. He feels so glad that the boy finally gave in, finally allowed him to touch him as he'd wanted to for at least a month.

John pulls back from the kiss for a moment, and raises his arms to let Sherlock remove his jumper, his breathing hard as his blue eyes rested on the boy's face.

Sherlock raises an eyebrow, smirking. He does as the blonde indicates, slowly removing the garment. He swallows, uncertain of himself.

The blonde gives him a sarcastic little look before looking around. "Uh ... are your parents not gonna come back?" He really, really doesn't want to get caught in this position, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

"No, they rarely return home. It is often empty. And my brother Mycroft is away at University. We are alone." Sherlock says. He scratches the back of his head and adds, "So, now that you know for certain that everything is to stay between us, I'd like to ask you something."

John listens to him and narrows his eyes. "Ask me then."

Sherlock nods slightly. "Are you at all attracted to me?" He sees no point in continuing if the boy was only using him.

John tilts his head and looks at him. "I don't know." Tells him, being as honest as he can. "If you're so perceptive, you tell me."

"Well, I think you are, but..." Sherlock trails off, shrugging helplessly. "The signs are there, but your own demeanor makes me doubt it." He sighs, feeling defeated. "I do like you. But I don't want this to just be because you're bored or because you don't have a girl hanging on your arm at this moment."

"And you think that the moment I'm bored or don't have a girl near me I go around making out with guys?" John asks him, starting to feel like this was a terrible idea, his stomach lurching uneasily. "Maybe we should move this study session to another day." He tells him, grabbing his jumper from the other boy’s hand.

Sherlock's eyes widen. "I'm sorry!" He blurts out. "I just, I've never done this before, and I am terrible with people." He sighs, relinquishing the jumper. "You can leave if you want, but I will be here."

John sighs, and moves to sit on the arm of the couch. "Yeah, tell me about it." John eyes him, and bites his lower lip. "I've only done this with girls and you talking about it is just freaking me out."

Sherlock smiles slowly. "Okay, well then... Maybe I shouldn't talk about it." He pads to where John is sitting. Carefully, slowly, he grips John's hips and leans in to press their lips together.

John watches as the male approaches, not resisting as he was touched and their lips met, kissing him easily he pulls him closer. He finds himself actually enjoying the feel of his hands on his hips, and he threads his fingers through Sherlock's dark curls.

Sherlock towers over John now, what with him in a sitting position, and he uses his height advantage to lower John onto the leather couch.

John sank into the couch easily, surprised to feel that he was aroused as Sherlock was and just simply lets the feeling wash over him, a soft grunt in the back of his throat.

Sherlock tilts his head slightly further to the right, his hands gripping John's hips forcefully. He could feel his entire body reacting to the feeling of the man beneath him, and his chest rumbled with a low growl.

John gasped at the grip on his hips, arching his body a little into the male he kissed his mouth thoroughly, a soft groan at the back of his throat as he spread his legs a little to make the position more comfortable.

Sherlock's bottom half sinks down, and he gasps at the sudden contact. He pulls his lips away from John's, only to press them into the boy's neck, nipping and sucking there.

The blonde shuts his eyes tightly at the contact, tilting his head so the boy would have more access to his neck, running his hands down his back and lets his fingers trail on the skin just under his shirt, lifting his hips a little for some contact.

Sherlock gasps helplessly, wanting so much to stay forever. He accidentally bites down harder at the friction, but, hearing the quick gasp from the mouth of the blonde, takes it as encouragement. He bites harder now, his lips closing over each bite in a kiss. His hands grab at John's hips as he grinds hard against him.

John grips at Sherlock's skin as he was bitten, shock at the fact that he was enjoying this. He gasps loudly at the grind of their hips and turns his face to kiss him again, hard, moving his own hips upward for more friction.

Sherlock's breaths become shortened, choppy, and he slides one hand up from the boy's hip. The hand ends at the boy's chest, and he pushes himself up. He straddles John, grinding against him, the friction driving him crazy.

John looks up at Sherlock, his blue gaze lust-filled as he runs his hands up the male’s stomach under his shirt and feels his breath hitch at the contact of their hips, moving to tug off the fabric off of Sherlock’s skin, feeling a flush grace his neck.

Sherlock allows John to remove his shirt, blushing at so many of his scars and bruises being seen.

John eyes the bruises for a moment, touching them gently with just his fingertips and bites his lip. "Does it hurt? When I touch them?" He whispers softly, blue eyes on the male's face.

Sherlock looks down in surprise at the question. "Ahh, no, not when you touch them so... Softly." He says, biting his lip. "Truthfully, that feels... Mmmm, soothing and arousing." He blushes again, but then one of John's fingertips touches lightly on one of the bruises, making him tighten his legs and roll his hips uncontrollably.

John lets out a quick breath at his words, but his eyes shut as the male rolls his hips, nodding a little. "Shit... That... Why does it feel... Like this ?" He asks a little breathlessly, shaking his head. "It shouldn't feel like this…"

"I don't know." Sherlock gasps. "I just want it." His hips buck slightly, and his hands clench against John’s chest.

John leans up and kisses his mouth. "Then take it." He tells him, moving his own hips with the male’s, seeking well-needed friction.

Sherlock moans at the statement, then leans forward and attacks the blonde's neck. He sucks at it, nipping, licking and tugging, and then breathes, "Trousers, yes or no?" His hand tightens around John's side with the words.

John's own mouth lets out obscene sounds at the other boy’s mouth on him, gripping at his shoulders tightly. "I don't care ... take them off." He gasps out, shifting under him.

Sherlock finds himself suddenly in need of everything at once. He wants to kiss John, to bite his neck, to shuck off their trousers and pants. His jaws tighten at John's neck, his mouth releasing a guttural moan at John's gasped admission. His hands travel lower, reaching the blonde's trouser's button and slipping it through. He unzips the boy's trousers hurriedly, his breath coming in quick gasps.

John feels so overwhelmed, like it's hard to breathe from all the touches and kisses. He lifts his hips for his clothes to be taken off, his own fingers moving to undo the other boy's trousers as he kisses his mouth and neck and jaw whenever he gets the chance, letting his fingers trail up his sides hotly.

Sherlock manages to get both of the boy's trousers and pants off, hovering over the blonde for a small moment to simply take in the sight of him naked and breathless. He grins for a moment, again straddling John's hips. "This is better than any dream I have ever had." He mutters under his breath, grabbing the blonde's wrists and pinning them above his head. He kisses the boy savagely, teeth and lips trapping the other's.

John flushes under Sherlock's gaze, his chest rising and falling in quick pants, and frowns. "You've ... you've dreamt about this?" He asks him and gasps loudly as the male pins his hands, arching his chest into him, barely having enough breath to kiss back but he did, kissing back deeply and as passionately as the other boy was kissing him.

Sherlock allows the kiss to go on for a few moments before pulling back to answer John's question. "Yes, I have. Does that bother you?" The younger boy says, trailing his teeth against the side of John's neck so that the boy can answer. He bites slightly, tugging at the warm skin as the blonde mulls over his answer.

John bites his lip, his heart drumming against his chest as he revels in the feeling of the other boy's lips and teeth on his skin. "I don't know ... what did you dream about?" He asks, the curiosity getting the better of him to hear some of those subconscious fantasies. He threads his fingers into the male's dark locks, scratching his scalp gently with his nails.

"I've dreamed about many things. Your lips, mostly. I've been captivated by them, have wanted them against mine for some time." Sherlock murmurs against the rugby player's neck, breath ghosting over the skin he had just been teasing. The brunette nips John again, then lifts his head to peer into John's eyes. "I've had a few dreams about this very situation, however. You naked and breathless beneath me while your English work remains untouched." He smiles slightly, teeth showing a moment. "I hope you don't mind...?"

John shivers lightly at the breath ghosting against his skin and meets Sherlock's eyes, listening to his words and swallowing. "I suppose... Swimming half-naked wasn't in the fantasy?" He offers a smirk and shakes his head, pulling him down into a kiss on the mouth, his other hand trailing down his naked back and to his waist. "And... Am I meeting the fantasy?" He would hate to be a disappointment.

"No, it wasn't a part of the fantasy." Sherlock smiles, and grinds slightly against John as the blonde's hand brushes over a particularly sensitive spot. "And not only have you met the fantasy, you have exceeded it greatly." the taller boy says, suddenly wishing they had gotten to his room before this began. At least they would have a bed.

"Good to know." He chuckles under the male, his breath hitching as the other boy ground down, a flush all over his chest as he was sure that he could feel his arousal. He leans in and places kisses of his own on the other boy's neck and chest, leaving a mark with his mouth just above his collarbone and gently kissing over it. "I don't really know what I'm doing..." He murmurs, not looking into Sherlock's eyes. "At least you have porn or something to refer to."

Sherlock gasps at the lips above his collarbone, breath whooshing into him. "You are doing perfectly." Sherlock murmurs. "Though I'm not sure who should fuck who..." He would be perfectly fine either way, wanting both possibilities equally. The lanky boy leans his head down and nibbles at John's jaw, teeth worrying at the skin just below the blonde's ear.

John feels pleased at the reactions he was causing, but then his whole body stiffens at his next words, and he knew this was coming, but he feels fright wash over him. "Uh... I... Um..." He swallows hard, a low moan at the back of his throat at the teeth on his skin, making him arch his body up into Sherlock's lightly. "I don't know..."

Sherlock smiles against the boy's neck. "It's alright." He whispers. "I understand why you're scared." He kisses John's neck lightly, sweetly. "I'm scared too."

John looks up at the ceiling and laughs quietly. "I am so smooth. You'd think I had the charm of a potato." He murmurs and closes his eyes at the kiss, turning his face to look at him. "You don't look scared to me...”

"Oh, I am, though the fear is overshadowed by my want, for the most part." Sherlock's eyelids lower over his blue-green eyes for a moment as he looks down at the blonde. "The pleasure outweighs the pain, I've been told. If that's what you're worried about." He shrugs slightly, thin shoulders moving slightly. "Or I could give you a blow job." He offers, wanting the boy to stop looking so worried.

John looks up at him and allows his fingers to keep brushing over the other boy's skin. "Okay." He nods, wondering for a moment whether girls hurt when having sex, but then at his next words he narrows his eyes. "Don't treat me like the virgin." He growls at him, and turns the soothing touches of one hand into a scratch and bucks his hips. "Fuck me."

Sherlock's eyes widen at John's sudden reaction, and he swallows hard. "Ahh... Okay, I suppose I could." The words stumble from his mouth, his mind still confused. "It will take... Preparation, and lubricant. I have some upstairs in my room." He says, slowly accepting the idea that he was actually about to have sex with the boy he hadn't been able to keep out of his mind for so long.

John takes in a deep breath and nods, shifting into a sitting position. "Lead the way." He was suddenly feeling self-conscious at his nudity, but he didn't move to cover himself up as he stood. He looks back at the other boy to see if he was coming or not, trying not to think about what's about to happen.

Sherlock nods, standing up. He smiles quietly and begins climbing the stairs, not bothering to grab their clothes from the floor. "This way." He says quietly when he reaches the top. He walks down the wooden hall, stopping at his door. Sherlock turns the brass knob, pushing it open, and steps into his room. "Here. This is my room." He tells the blonde, who looks at the walls, covered with art and compositions with wide eyes.

John follows Sherlock, also leaving their clothes where they were. He feels his heart speed up at the anticipation of this, trying to swallow down his nervousness. He knows he wants this, at least right now, but there was a small sense of dread within him as he stepped into Sherlock’s room. His eyes roam around the covered walls curiously, thinking back to his room, which had some band posters and a poster of his favourite rugby player. "Nice decor." He commented with a nod, shutting the door behind him.

Sherlock smiles, swallowing back the sudden lump of nervousness in his throat. "Thank you." He says, crossing the room quickly. He pulls a brass key from atop his dresser and unlocks a small drawer in his desk. He removes a tube of lubricant from the drawer, and then pauses."Should I, ahh, use a condom? If that's what you want."

John watches the boy’s movements, moving to sit on the bed and leaning back on his arms, a fluttering in the pit of his stomach at every passing moment. He frowns. "I wouldn't know... I mean... I'm hardly gonna get pregnant?" He cocks an eyebrow, thinking that he had good logic there.

Sherlock nods and chuckles quietly. "That is true. I just didn't know if you would prefer that or not." Sherlock shrugs, closing and locking the drawer and returning the key to its place. The brunette peers at John a moment, and then he crosses the room, tossing the lube on his bed. He grasps the blonde's shoulders in his hands, branding the boy's lips with a passionate kiss.

John simply shrugs, closing his eyes for a moment as he waits, and, not seeing the other boy finishing with everything the kiss comes as a surprise. He responds instantly, kissing back just as passionately as he falls into the bed pulling Sherlock on top of him and wraps his legs around his waist.

Sherlock moans as he feels John's legs wrap around him, and he braces his palms against the sheets. He kisses John roughly for a moment, and then his lips travel down, leaving a trail of kisses from the blonde's jawline to his stomach. When Sherlock is finished worshiping the rugby player's torso with his lips, he pulls back, sitting up. He grabs the lube and wets his index finger with it. Peeking up at the boy's face, the brunette lowers his finger in between them and presses it tenderly against John's entrance.

John returns the rough kiss eagerly, releasing his legs from the male’s waist as his lips kisses him lower, the muscles in his stomach quivering at the sensations of his lips on skin, his eyes following Sherlock as he sits up, and the movements to the bottle without breaking gaze, spreading his legs wider for the male to be able to reach his entrance, holding his breath at the intruding sensation there, but he could not keep in a low moan.

Sherlock's lips tug up at the corners at the moan, and he silently congratulates himself. He carefully, slowly, presses his finger further into John, wanting to make this experience as painless as he can for the older male. He leans down once more, returning his lips to John's abdomen, kissing and sucking there.

John’s hands find purchase in the soft duvet under him, not quite sure if he should be doing anything with them, and then the pressure increases and his breath hitches. John shuts his eyes tightly and bites down on his lip hard, not expecting the kisses on his stomach. His hands find purchase in the dark hair, his member twitching slightly at the feeling of the other's lips so close yet so far. "You don't need to be so careful." He tells him, just wanting the finger-fucking over with, and not so agonisingly slow.

Sherlock nips John at the words. He nods his assent, and his finger moves quicker inside of the male. He continues teasing the blonde, his mouth moving nearer to and then further from the man's erection. Then, he finally allows his lips to move against John's length, drifting wetly over the shaft.

John's inside clench at the foreign feeling, a soft gasp falling from his lips, moving his hips upwards at the teasing, his length needed any kind of contact, and the relief is so great when Sherlock's mouth is finally on it. "Shit ..." He hisses, the sensations enveloping him completely as he becomes a mess under the male.

Sherlock smirks for a moment, his teeth brushing against the rugby player's member. He kisses the shaft once, his lips pressing against it. He continues the quick movements of his finger for a few more moments, then removes it and adds lubricant to a second finger. He pushes the fingers in slowly, John's entrance still tight.

The sensation of the teeth along his skin causes quiet moans to escape his lips, and the intrusion of the second finger making his hips buck up a little, the slight sting of it soon soothed by the in-and-out movement. "Oh fuck..." John's lips made the almost silent sound, as his fingers scratched at Sherlock's shoulders.

Sherlock continues his movements, moving his lips to the tip of the blonde's length. He opened his mouth, using his tongue to bring the first inch or two into the warmth of his mouth. He closed his lips around John's member, sucking lightly at the head.

John's muscles tighten as he holds his breath, the feeling of the warmth around him coupled with the fingers inside him making his whole skin flame, soft sounds of the other male's name falling from his lips. He just wants more, which he shows by moving his hips upward to get more of the boy’s mouth around him.

Hearing his name fall from the blonde's lips turned Sherlock on even more, and he swirls his tongue over the head of John's member. He moans around it, his head lowering inch by inch. The taller boy's fingers move quicker inside of John, eliciting small moans and gasps.

John's hips bucked hard at the fingers deeper inside him, loud moans filling the air as he gripped and tugged on the other boy’s hair harshly. "O-Oh... Fuck... Sherlock... Please.." He wasn't sure what he was begging for, maybe for him to be inside him already, or not to stop, but he could not control his words.

Sherlock stops. He lifts his mouth from the blonde's length, licking his lips. He pulls his fingers out, whispers, "I think you're ready," before he presses his erection against John's entrance.

John swallows hard and wraps his arms around Sherlock's neck, nodding. "Go slow..." He asks, since he had been warned there would be pain, and pulls the other boy into a kiss as he readies himself to be entered.

Sherlock nods, then kisses back slowly, cradling the boy's face with one hand. With the other, he guides himself slowly into John, the warmth and tightness pulling a soft, low moan from him.

John's breath hitches as he digs his nails into Sherlock's back, the sting of the intrusion making him shut his eyes tightly. "A-ah... Just... Give me a moment." He whispers against his mouth once the other boy was fully inside him.

Sherlock nods, knowing this must be hard for the rugby player to comprehend. "Take your time." He barely gasps out, the pleasure of being surrounded making it difficult to breathe.

John nods and takes a few more moments, just barely breathing against the other boy’s skin. "Okay... I'm good..." He murmurs and opens his eyes to take in Sherlock's face. "Move..." He breathes, moving his own hips along with the statement.

Sherlock moans at the motion, his eyes closing momentarily. His right hand moves up from between them to grip at John's hip, fingers denting into the skin there. He slowly pulls his hips back, and then with a moan, pushes them back in to meet the blonde's. He gasps at the new sensations, his mind fracturing.

John's breath comes out in pants as Sherlock's hips move so agonisingly slowly, his whole body quivering beneath the other boy and moans loudly at the sensations hitting him then, moving his head to kiss over Sherlock's jaw and neck, sucking more marks onto the skin as the boy moved inside him.

Sherlock's chest rumbles in a guttural moan, his hips moving quicker at the feeling of John's lips on his neck. He gasps quietly, back arching at the sensations.

John's own moans were becoming increasingly louder, arching his body to be as close to the male as he can. "Fuck... Go faster..." He tells him, moving his own hips faster as an example.

Sherlock does as he is told, his hips slamming into the older boy's. He groans at the feeling, his lips shaping John's name silently over and over. "Ahhh, you're so... So good." He gasps, his voice raspy and stuttering.

"I - I can't..." John moans as the other boy quickens his pace, slamming their mouths together for a rough kiss before pulling back, panting quickly. "Just... I'm so close..." He groans, running his hands down the boy’s back to grip his butt tightly, leaving hand shaped marks on his skin.

Sherlock's back arches roughly at the words coupled with the hands. He moans, louder than he had before. "I am... Too!" He gasps between moans and pants. "Soon." He says quietly, his left hand fisting in the duvet beneath them.

John moves his hand between them to touch his own length, his other hand running all over the skin of the other boy, as much as he can touch, before his hips lost rhythm in jerky motions, spilling his release between them both. "Fuuuck... Sherlock..." He moans loudly.

The lanky boy moans with John, filling the blonde with his own release. He gasps out a quick, shaky, "John!", and collapses on top of John from the force of his own orgasm. He breaths slower for a few moments before pulling out and lying beside the other boy.

John's eyes stay on the ceiling at the other boy fills him up, his chest rising and falling in quick motions as he tries to catch his breath, not daring to look at the male as he pulls out, swallowing hard as he just lays limp on the bed.

Sherlock's breathing eventually slows, and he murmurs a quiet, "Wow." He smiles a little, but expects the blonde will begin freaking out soon.

"That's certainly one word for it." John murmurs quietly, moving to place an arm over his eyes as his breathing slows down and becomes completely regular.

Sherlock feels relaxed, but a small part of him still tenses, waiting for John to fully comprehend what this means. He stays silent, not wanting to cause the blonde to be alarmed if he can help it.

John moves to sit up slowly, biting his lower lip. "I should... Uh... Probably go." He speaks quietly, slow dread filling in the pit of his stomach.

Sherlock nods, having expected this outcome. Still doesn't hurt any less. "Yes, that sounds... Fine." He says. "I suppose we will study the passive and impassive voices another day?"

John stands and moves to the door, knowing their clothes were in the living room and shrugs. "Yeah, maybe... we can probably do that at my house." He said this knowing there would be people there and walks out of the room to go and find his clothes.

Sherlock sighs. "Sure." He responds, waiting for a while before following the boy downstairs. He readies himself, and then walks into the living room with false nonchalance. He grabs his clothes and puts them on hurriedly, suddenly wanting John gone, to not see the scars his fingers had so carefully trailed over. He swallows back a lump in his throat, grimacing at the feeling.

John grabs his clothes quickly, dressing and doesn't watch as the other male dresses. He runs a hand through his blonde hair and grabs his bag. "Can I have a glass of water?" He asks, his throat as dry as sandpaper, the only evidence of what has just happened his messy hair.

Sherlock nods silently, not trusting his voice to come out without wobbling. He grabs a glass for John and fills it completely before handing it over.

"Thanks." John takes the water carefully, making sure their skin doesn't touch before downing the water in the glass and puts it on the counter. "I'll see you at school, yeah?" He nods, before hoisting his bag over his shoulder and heads for the door.

Sherlock responds quietly, "Yes, of course." His voice is stiff and unfriendly, and when he closes the heavy wooden door behind John, he collapses against it. He sits there for a few long moments, hugging his knees.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, there is a brief encounter with some rugby players, and there is homophobic language involved, as well as a short fight. The fight isn't depicted, so the only detail is whatever injuries Sherlock sustained. (Sherlock doesn't fight back even though he totally should.) Also, Sherlock cusses a lot in this chapter, John knocks out a couple firsts of the sexual variety, and they drink and smoke in this chapter as well. I have no idea if I should say anything more than this, honestly, because I don't want to spoil it, and I also don't think there's anything that should trigger anyone, necessarily. 
> 
> If there is and I missed it, please, _please_ , inform me and I will be sure to fix it.
> 
> Sherlock stutters sometimes, which I completely neglected to mention in the tags. His stuttering isn't really a speech impediment, nor is it something that happens really often, mostly just when he's overwhelmed by something. He also sometimes switches languages during sex because yes please. Enjoy!
> 
> Find us on Tumblr [here](http://ipraytoangelcastiel.tumblr.com/) or [here](http://thegirlwholikesassbutts.tumblr.com/).

John's been staying at school longer and longer, working harder on rugby. He finds himself doing so now, busy with practice, relentlessly working to build up a sweat. He pointedly hadn't picked up his phone whenever it rang, but it seemed like practice had to be cut short so he begins making his way to the bleachers to grab his bag.

Sherlock sighs in frustration, closing his phone at the voice mail. He growls low in his throat and throws his phone against the wall, causing the back to fly off and the battery and SIM card to scatter. The lanky boy sighs again, and stoops to pick up the debris. After putting his phone back together, Sherlock resolves to wait for John outside of the locker room, knowing it would bother him but not caring.

John walks to the locker rooms slowly and stops in his tracks when he sees the male, narrowing his eyes before walking over to him. "What are you doing here?" He asks him, trying to move past him and through the door, not wanting to deal with him right then.

Sherlock's hand snakes out and grips the front of John's jumper, the fabric bunching in his fist. "The English teacher told me you got an F on a test. What the hell?" He says, his voice a deadly whisper. The brunette is so angry with all of his pent-up emotions that he knows that if he isn't careful, someone could end up seriously hurt. And it wouldn't be him.

John's anger flared at the touch and he grabbed the male's wrist, tugging it off his jumper. "Don't fucking touch me." He growled at him, taking a step back, snorting a little. "Why were you talking to my English teacher?" He asked, taking several steps back. "I don't care if she shit on you, leave me alone."

Sherlock's temper flares, and he stays back from John, not daring to touch him again. "I was talking to your English teacher because she pulled me aside after my class to ask me what the fuck I've been doing, you twat." He crosses his arms, hiding his balled fists. "I won't get in trouble because you're a frightened little idiot."

"It's not your problem. You can just say that I was too dumb to get anything you were teaching me. See, no trouble for you." He starts to move for the door again, lifting a hand to wipe away some sweat running down his neck. "Are we done now?"

"No! I don't think so. Because she has decided that not only am I supposed to tutor you, but also that your grade affects mine, because apparently tutoring is part of my grade now. I can not receive a low grade. My parents..." He shudders a small moment. "It would be very, very bad if I received a low grade. Could you at least try and get passed the stupid thing that happened and help me out by letting me help you?" Sherlock trembles slightly, fear gripping his heart.

"This isn't about anything, I've just been busy." John grits out and rolls his eyes. "Well, my English teacher is a bitch, what can you do, I'll try not to fail next time." He tilts his head to the side and looks straight at him. "Anything else?"

Sherlock huffs, blowing at a loose curl on his forehead. "We both know you won't pull a good enough grade for this to work. And if it isn't about anything, and you have just been busy, you shouldn't care if I come over to your house for a study session. Please." Sherlock says, hating the word in his mouth. He had never begged for anything before, and it felt strange to do so now. "This is really important to me."

John takes in a deep breath. "Thanks for making me sound like an incompetent idiot." He says, rolling his eyes. "Fine, come over on Saturday, text before you do." He tells him and nods. "Can I go shower now? Standing around covered in sweat is not the most pleasant of feelings."

Sherlock nods, grateful. "Thank you. And yes, go, like I care." The lanky boy makes shooing motions with his hands, backing away to leave.

The blonde snorts and makes a salute-like motion with his fingers before heading into the locker rooms, not glancing back.

Sherlock keeps walking and turns a corner, running smack into three rugby players, who automatically grab him. "Hanging out by the locker room now, yeah? Seems like the little faggot likes pain." One of them says, leering. Sherlock growls out, "Don't do this. Not now." They laugh and push him against the brick wall. "Oooh, I'm so scared of the puny little fairy. He could probably do some damage." A second one says, looking at his compadres with wide, sarcastic eyes.

John thought he had only taken a few minutes to shower and another few to get dressed before he was out of the locker room, but it seems like it was longer than those minutes he was in there when he notices that his 'buddies' are beating the shit out of Sherlock. John just stops for a moment, wanting to be home as quick as he can, but he couldn't just let this happen. "What the fuck is going on here!?" He glares at them. "Are you really this fucking stupid? Anyone could walk by."

Sherlock gasps, having thought John would have either kept walking or even joined in. He stays where he is, slumped against the wall, the blood from his mouth staining his grey shirt. He coughs for a second and spits on the pavement beside him. "Oh no, by all means, continue." He mutters with a dark snarky humor, glaring defiantly at the largest of the three.

John rolls his eyes at the words. "Shut the fuck up." He hisses at Sherlock and looks at his buddies. "Go shower, you guys reek, the faggot will feel the kicks next week." He snorts at them, his blue eyes cold as he watches them go before turning back to the boy on the ground. "You seriously like to get into trouble, don't you?"

Sherlock moves to get up, but a breath hisses through his teeth as his side twinges. He grimaces as tears well up in his eyes, this particular time being the worst. "I-I don't. They were looking for someone to beat up, and who better than the school faggot?" The brunette mutters darkly, eyes closed. "Just go away." He says.

"Yeah, pretty much." He eyes him before looking around. "I've got some first aid crap in my car if you want it?" He offers and isn't about to offer twice, heading for his car and knowing the male would follow if he wanted to, and if not it was his loss.

Sherlock sighs and gets up stiffly to follow, limping slightly. The male briefly wonders if his ankle is seriously injured, but decides it is most-likely just sprained from when he was shoved against the wall. He grumbles under his breath, something about why he even bothers.

John unlocks his car door, opening the passenger side, and looks at the other boy. "Sit." He tells him, while he goes to the boot to get the first aid box. He bites his lip as he opens it, getting some painkillers for Sherlock to take, along with disinfectant for the cuts. "Here." John wasn't about to take care of him more than handing him that box. "Do you need a ride?"

Sherlock looks down at his injuries, tending to them carefully. "I--ahh, are you certain that is the best idea?" He asks, eyebrows pinching together.

John shrugs and leans against the car door. "What, are you afraid I'm going to crash?" Eyes him skeptically and snorts.

Sherlock shakes his head, scowling at the crick in his neck. He pauses to pop it, then says, "Won't your rugby friends be assholes about it?"

John shrugged. "What they can't see won't hurt them, so you better hurry your ass up." He tells him before moving to sit in the driver’s side, putting on his seatbelt and waiting for Sherlock to get his legs in and close the door.

Sherlock nods, embarrassed that he had said anything. He shuts the door, folding his knees carefully as he buckled himself in.

John just keeps his eyes on the road, taking the way he had when he came to Sherlock's house the first time. He moves to put the radio on, not feeling like he had anything to say.

Sherlock whispers, "Thank you for this," before turning to look out the window, not wanting the other boy to notice the tears in his eyes. _Why do I do this to myself? Torture myself this way. Spending more time with him when I know he is disgusted by me._ He thinks to himself, feeling awful.

John frowns at the whisper and nods. "Yeah, don't mention it." He still keeps his eyes on the road, biting on his lip as he parks by the boy’s house but doesn't kill the engine.

Sherlock bites his lip as the familiar house rolls into view. He swallows hard around the lump in his throat and reaches for the handle, not realizing for a moment that his side is locked. He grunts in annoyance and unlocks the door, finally getting out of the small space where John's scent could cloud his senses. He sighs and says in a timid voice, "Seriously. Thank you."

John turns to the boy at the sound of his voice and nods. "Sure." He was confused at the timid-sounding voice since usually he was loud and bossy, but shrugs it off. "See you Saturday." He says, and once the other boy was far away from the car he was driving back home, his heart beating faster in his chest though he refused to admit it.

Sherlock nodded, walking carefully up the walk way. He swallowed again and took a deep breath before stepping through the threshold, knowing his parents will be expecting him on the other side.

\- - - - - -

John eyes his phone in distaste as it beeped to inform him of a text coming, and lo and behold it was Sherlock coming over. He was happy that his parents would be home, and he sent an 'ok' back to the other boy, waiting now for the doorbell to ring as he collected his English books.

Sherlock strolled up John's walkway, taking in the tasteful shrubbery and muted colours of the shutters. He felt much better to see that there were cars other than John's in the driveway, not sure if he was ready to be alone with the rugby player again.

Upon hearing the doorbell, John made his way to open the door for the male. "Hey." He was surprised as how pleasant he was being, though that may have something to do with his parents being home. "Follow me." He said, waving to his mum before making his way upstairs, leaving the door to his room fully open.

Sherlock quirks an eyebrow at John's strange mood, but follows him inside anyway. Sherlock waves awkwardly at Mrs. Watson before retreating after John.

The blonde moved to fetch his book from the desk, and eyed the chair. "Sit if you want." He muttered, before looking at him. "How's the face?" He asks, referring to when he was beaten up.

Sherlock nods and folds himself into the chair, glad for the comfortable cushions. "It is better. Still somewhat tender near my lip, but that's no matter."

John takes in the other boy’s face and nods. "I suppose you'll live." He places his book on his desk and pulls up the other chair from the side of the room a smirk on his face. "Alright then, teach me something, O Intelligent One."

Sherlock nods, hands already rummaging in his pack for his notes. Soon, he has them all in a neat pile, and launches into a lecture about the different voices in writing styles.

John listens and makes some notes on what he was saying but he only has so much concentration. "Jesus... You know I won't remember any of this in five minutes." He snorts and tosses his pen down onto the paper.

Sherlock grumbles. "It's not my fault you're a dolt."

John narrows his eyes at him. "Fuck you, stop acting like you're better than me." He suddenly feels angry.

"Acting?" Sherlock scoffs. "This coming from the mouth of the boy who can't pull a high enough grade to keep from pulling himself and his tutor into the problem." Sherlock rolls his eyes.

John clenches his hands into fists. "Excuse me? Don't you think I fucking try? Sometimes intelligence isn't measured by how well you can write a bullshit essay you arrogant fuck!"

Sherlock's eyes widen and he swallows, actually somewhat surprised at the words. "Look, I'm sorry that was rude of me to say. I just... My temper isn't exactly the best today."

John snorts. "Keep your bullshit apologies, I don't need them." He moves to shove his notebook back in a drawer. "You should leave; I'll get the grade on my own."

Sherlock shakes his head. "Really. I will stop being such an asshole. And I am sorry for... Last session." Sherlock looks down, knowing the words had to happen. It doesn't make them any less painful or false.

John looks at him for a moment. "Yeah, whatever we got some work done this session." Turns to avoid his gaze, purposefully ignoring any talk on what happened.

Sherlock nods and bites his lip. "True." Is all he says, his eyes still on the ground.

John sucks in a breath. "Okay, enough hormonal crap." John narrows his eyes, sucking it up. "Yes, we fucked, but it didn't mean anything, it was a mistake. So can we just never mention it again and get me a God damn English grade so we don't have to see each other again? Damn it."

Sherlock nods, still unhappy. He begins his lecture on the correct usage of conjunctions, but with much less enthusiasm than he had before. _It was a mistake..._ Repeats in his head over and over, making it hard for him to keep his train of thought.

John listens to him, making some notes and after a while he rubs his temples. "I'm gonna get a drink, do you want anything?" He says, then moves to get up, feeling stiff.

"Water is fine." Sherlock mutters, his mind rolling around the words from earlier, trying to remember the inflection in John's voice. He squeezes his eyes shut, his mind stumbling over the words repeatedly.

The male nods and goes to get two glasses of water, shrugging at his mum when she asked if Sherlock was staying for dinner, and comes back, handing him the glass, brow furrowed. "Sherlock, if you've got something to say, say it. Don't beat around the bush acting like I just kicked your puppy."

Sherlock grimaces and takes a sip of water. "You won't like what I have to say, it would be better for me to not."

"Fine, but stop acting like a little bitch." He drains half of his glass, and runs a hand through his hair. "Do we still have a lot to go through today?"

"I don't think it was a mistake." Sherlock blurts out, then covers his mouth with his hand, eyes wide. "Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to say anything, damn!" He babbles, dropping his head into his hands as blood rushes to his face. "And we only have a few small things." He mumbles sheepishly.

John stares at him for a good minute. "No? Well, sorry to disappoint, but it was to me."

Sherlock's shoulders tighten at the words, and he doesn't move his face from his hands. "Okay. Fine." He mutters, the words muffled slightly.

"Fine." John nods and picks up his pen. "Let's just... Finish this."

Sherlock nods, grabbing his papers to continue the lesson.

\- - - - - -

John takes the steps to Sherlock’s house two at a time for their next session, knocking on the door, actually smiling for once.

Sherlock looks up from the granite countertop, drumming his fingers for a moment before walking to answer the door.

John grins widely and waves a piece of paper at Sherlock. "I didn't fail! I mean, I got a C, but that's a pass!" He flails the paper at him excitedly.

Sherlock grins happily, glad to see John in such high spirits. "That's wonderful! Congratulations!" He says. "I knew you weren't an idiot." He can't help but add.

John rolls his eyes. "Don't ruin my mood, you ass." He tells him, though he didn't take his words to heart and moves into the house. "So, in honour of my success, I propose that we get drunk."

Sherlock raises his eyebrows, amused. "Alright. I'm game. My parents have all sorts of alcohol, I'm certain they wouldn't miss some."

John stills and eyes him. "You... You're actually agreeing to this?" He laughs and tilts his head. "I didn't take you for much of a drinker, but okay. I brought a bottle, but we can take some of your parents' if we need it."

Sherlock nods. "I have drank before. I'm not opposed to drinking again in celebration of a friend." He smiles and flops onto his couch. "Just don't even think about going swimming once you are drunk." He adds, not even wanting to think about what could happen.

John doesn't think it worth commenting about whether they were friends or not, and shrugs, but then rolls his eyes. "Shut up, we're both going swimming." John snickers and goes to look through the boy's cupboards for shot glasses. He gets a couple before coming back and putting them on the table, grabbing his bag and pulling out a bottle of vodka with a grin, handing it to him. "You first, Sunshine."

Sherlock sighs and nods, defeated. He unscrews the bottle, pours himself a shot, and raises it in salute to John. "To you." He mutters, before tilting the glass against his lips and swallowing quickly. "Ugh. Nasty." He says, grimacing at the harsh flavour.

John watches him with a smirk on his lips and chuckles. "Mmmm, you look like you enjoyed that." He teases and moves to pour himself a shot, downing it and scrunching his nose up. "Why does it always taste better after you've had a few?"

"Most likely because your senses have been dulled, coupled with your taste buds growing used to the flavour." Sherlock says, pouring himself another and downing it quickly.

John rolls his eyes. "That was a rhetorical question." Tells him and takes the bottle, not bothering with the glass and drinks some from the bottle. "Do you smoke?" He asks him, fumbling about his bag for his pack of cigarettes.

Sherlock swallows. "I had quit. Many times." He smiles a tiny smile, and rolls up a sleeve to reveal three nicotine patches on his forearm. "It's a three patch problem." He rolls his sleeve down, reaching for the pack anyway.

John eyes him. "You're only seventeen, how many times can you have quit?" He takes back the packet and puts one of them in his mouth. "Maybe you're better off not smoking, wouldn't want you blaming me later for a relapse." He snorts and lights it, taking in a long drag. "Any ashtrays in this house? I would hate to stain the carpet."

"I have quit around four times." Sherlock says, again reaching for the pack, this time succeeding in snatching a cigarette. "I wouldn't blame you. I'm in control of myself, not you." He sticks the cigarette in his mouth and lights it with his own lighter, taking a drag. He rolls his sleeve up once more and removes the patches, flicking them into the trash. The brunette nods at John's question, removing a crystal ashtray from a small cabinet and setting it on the counter.

"Seriously? Huh. Go Sherlock." John snickers and takes a drag from the bottle, and then his cigarette. He leans back into the couch and eyes the other male as he throws away the patches, before casting his eyes to the ashtray. "Seriously, even your ashtray is expensive as fuck." He snorts and hands him the bottle. "Your parents aren't gonna be home any time soon?" He looks around, as if they would pop out at any moment.

"No, they won't. As usual." Sherlock responds, ignoring the ashtray comment. He grasps the vodka bottle by the neck, takes a long swig, swallows, and takes another. He set the bottle on the counter and brings the cigarette to his lips, savouring the vanilla flavour of the tobacco.

John frowns for a second. "You're home alone all the time?" He asks curiously, as he slowly finishes his cigarette before putting it out, and takes another swig from the bottle, starting to feel a small amount of haziness around his mind.

"Yes, generally." Sherlock nods, taking one last drag from his own cigarette before putting it out as well. He smiles and takes the bottle into his left hand, licking his lips before pressing them to the mouth of the bottle and tilting the fiery liquid into his mouth.

"Huh." John leans back a little more, looking completely relaxed like he never has been. "Throw a party or something. I'd get lonely as fuck in a massive house like this on my own." He shrugs a little and takes the bottle from him, wrapping his lips around it. He keeps his eyes on the male and drinks, humming lightly.

"Loneliness is a friend to me." Sherlock replies, his eyes on John's lips around the bottle. He licks his own and sighs, brushing a hand through his curls. _Stop it stop it stop it._ He thinks to himself, wishing he wasn't still attracted to John. He takes the bottle and sips at it, his mind becoming deliciously fuzzy.

John tilts his head and muses. "Dude... That is depressing." He thinks for a moment and rubs his neck slowly. "I'd invite friends over all the time to make it less quiet. I hate silence." The blonde smiles a little and takes back the bottle, the alcohol running down his throat like fire and he closes his eyes in satisfaction.

"I don't have... Friends." Sherlock admits. "You are my only friend, if you even consider us that." He thinks for a moment, before revising. "You are the closest thing to a friend that I have." The lanky boy shrugs, thin shoulders moving in his hoodie.

John’s blue eyes study the male for a few long moments. "Really?" John swallows and shifts to sit up a little bit. "Then you have a skewed view of friendship, I'm a dick to you like... Ninety-five percent of the time we're in the same room together."

Sherlock nods. "I know, but you also came to me to celebrate your success, rather than anyone else. I think maybe you're just a dick to me because of what I am." Sherlock shrugs and leans against a wall, his hoodie slipping up to reveal a slim line of his pale hips.

John snickers at his words. "Because we were due for a study session, and I'd rather get drunk than study, and you wouldn't appreciate me skipping?" He cocks an eyebrow and his eyes glance down to the skin revealed, lingering for a second too long before he quickly grabs the bottle and takes a swig. "What do you mean? What are you?"

"Homosexual, of course. If nothing else, since apparently sexuality defines people." Sherlock rolls his aqua eyes, teeth nibbling on his lower lip. He crosses his arms, which in turn pulls his hoodie up more, but he is so fuzzy by now that he doesn't even realize.

"Oh, that." John nods and drinks more, his mind now even hazier, and his speech starting to slur a little as he stretches out on the sofa, having kicked his shoes off. His eyes take in the other male, and he unconsciously licks his lower lip. "I couldn't give a fuck if you stuck a cactus up your ass, dude."

Sherlock giggles at the words, his mind producing a comical mental image. "Alright then. But you would give a fuck if I stuck your cock in my ass?" He answers, only half teasing. He stretches against the wall, arching like a cat, and then unzips his hoodie to reveal a very worn purple tee shirt beneath it. "Is it just me, or is it hot in here?" He mutters.

"Look at you, so vulgar. Been spending too much time with me." He shakes his head. "That’s different, cause it's my cock, but the cactus doesn't belong to me, so fuck it all you like." He shrugs and watches him take off his jumper, eyes lingering on skin. "It's because I'm in the room." John teases and winks.

Sherlock can't help the eye-roll that comes from John's words. He smiles. "But would you care? Because I forgot to tell you this but I'm a horny drunk." He slumps to the floor beside the couch, eyes on the buckle of John's belt. His eyes flick up to meet John's, half-lidded, and he smiles flirtatiously.

John’s eyes follow the male as he moves to sit by the couch, and snickers, taking another drink from the bottle before handing it to him. "What? You want me to find you a cactus?" John grins, "That can be arranged." He moves his hand to pet the other male over the head as he would a house-pet.

Sherlock takes the bottle willingly, taking a deep swig. "You know what I mean." He shivers lightly at the touch, biting his lower lip.

John shakes his head. "I don't." He purses his lips, trying not to think of the meanings and looks away, casting his eyes onto the ceiling.

"I mean." Sherlock begins, huffing in irritation. "That I'd very much like to have sex with you, because alcohol just makes me more open about these things apparently." He brushes at his curls with his fingers, mussing them slightly as he lifts the bottle for another drink.

John leans up on his arm and narrows his eyes. "I don't think I'm drunk enough for that." He snorts and grabs the bottle from him, taking a large gulp, before moving to get off the sofa. "I need a piss." He steadies himself, but was more disorientated than he thought as he stumbled with the first step. "Fuck..."

Sherlock smirks at John's stumble. "You sure about that? You seem drunk enough to me." He says, an eyebrow rising quizzically.

John snorts, and looks back at him. "Yeah, I'm sure, but at this point I suppose you'd be happy to even hold my dick while I piss." He rolls his eyes before moving in the general direction of the bathroom.

Sherlock scoffs. "That, is nasty." He says, crossing his arms as his head flops onto a couch cushion.

John laughs and grins and goes to do his business in the loo, before washing his hands and face. He holds onto the wall for support as he walks back, and falls to the floor beside the other male, taking the bottle from him and drinks. "Mmm, so how ‘bout that swim? I vote for skinny dipping."

Sherlock raises his eyebrows. "Certainly. Just no extra-deep end." He nods, already plucking at his shirt as he walks toward the door to the pool.

John moves to get up and rolls his eyes. "Don't be a buzz-kill Sherlock, jeez." He moves to remove his own clothes as they walk outside, throwing them to the ground in a line, first jumper then shirt, stripping a little over his trousers he moves to remove his underwear easily and flashes the other male a grin once he was completely naked, and jumps into the deep end of the water.

Sherlock allows his eyes to rest on John's nude body slightly longer than necessary before finishing his undressing and following suit. The water feels clear and warm, closing around him in a comfortable way.

Once he reaches the surface, John shivers. "Jesus fuck, it's cold." He laughs and throws his head back happily, letting the world spin. "I like the feeling of being drunk... everything spins." He snickers, smiling widely, actually looking happy.

"It feels warm to me." Sherlock responds as he surfaces a couple feet away. He smiles at the comment and bobs his head in agreement. "Yes, it's very nice."

"Well, you're weird." He shoots back and swims over to him. "You should give me a piggy back ride!" He laughs, jumping onto the other male's back and clings to him. His arms tight around his neck, he locks his legs around his waist.

Sherlock laughs, eyes shutting as his hands grip behind John's knees. He giggles a little, breathless as he kicks a little to move. "There I did it." He gasps out, his laughter taking his breath away.

John clings to him and his laughs are right beside the other male's ear. "No one said you should stop moving!" John grins. "Come on, at least carry me to the other side!"

Sherlock giggles, then lets go of the blonde's legs to doggy paddle to the other side. "You're crazy, you know that?" He teases as he reaches the wall.

John lets go of him once they were at the end and beams. "Sheesh, that wasn't so hard, was it." He laughs and shakes his head. "No, but thanks for telling me." He splashes some water at him and leans against the wall.

Sherlock splutters at the water, then swims in front of John to press a quick kiss to his lips. "I couldn't help it, sorry." He mutters, then dives down and swims away to the other end of the pool. "You're just so cute when you're happy." He calls from the other wall.

John stills at the kiss, his body stiffening a little as he watches the other male swim away, and he runs a hand over his face. "You know, you have absolutely zero self control." John smirks at him, and starts to slowly move in the direction of where Sherlock swam. "And you keep forgetting that I'm the heterosexual one in this pool." He quirks an eyebrow.

Sherlock nods and rolls his eyes. "Certainly," He says sarcastically. "I've never had much self control." He shrugs and grins. "But that's led to interesting things, so I'd not regret it."

"You should learn to keep your hands to yourself." John shrugs and snorts. "And what's 'certainly' supposed to mean?" John cocked an eyebrow, blue eyes on the male. "Doing something once doesn't define anything about me."

Sherlock's eyes widen. "I never said it did. Jumping to conclusions, are we?" Sherlock shrugs again, then plants another kiss to John's face, this time his cheek. "It's okay. I'll live." He adds before moving back a little to rest against the wall once more.

John snorts. "I'm drunk, not an idiot." He holds his breath a moment when his cheek was kissed, also leaning back against the wall once the male moved away, resting his head on the tiles and closes his eyes. "What are you thinking right now?"

"I am thinking how sweet of a kisser you are. How different your lips were then than when you speak with them. They taste like cinnamon and strawberries, but sound like asphalt and razors."

John opens his eyes and looks at Sherlock. "I don't recall being a sweet kisser." He breathes, "I remember harsh bites and marks and there is nothing sweet about that." He licks his lips and looks down at his hands. "I suppose foul words are just the way I am, take it or leave it."

"I'll take it." Sherlock says. He blushes, and adds, "And yes. I remember those. But when your lips were on mine, they turned sweet for those small moments. They moved softly much of the time, rather than roughly. But it's no matter." He shivers slightly and wraps his arms around his chest, mind taking him to those moments.

John feels a flush in his chest, blaming it on the alcohol as he listens to the male. "Do you think about it a lot?" He eyes him a little uncertainly.

Sherlock nods. "All the time, really. It was very... Nice."

John laughs a little. "Nice." He nods then shakes his head, blinking a few times. "Why?" He doesn't know if he's asking why him or why he thinks about it a lot, but they're both the same question really.

"Because... I really enjoyed myself. And you are intriguing to me. Also, because it’s the only time I've ever been that close to someone."

John nods and looks at him. "Maybe you should try and be close to someone else." He tells him softly, "See if you like that better." He shrugs.

"I doubt I will. Besides, no one else has captured my attention." Sherlock shrugs and looks down at the nails on his left hand. "I've only ever actually fancied one boy, and that boy is you."

John sucks in a breath. "Seems like alcohol is also making you speak your mind more." John bites his lower lip, before meeting his eyes. "You'd have no trouble finding someone to capture your attention... There are a ton of people just like me." He laughs a little humourlessly.

Sherlock shakes his head. "I know you're good, somewhere in there. And you're good for me. My mind is usually clearer around you." Sherlock swims close to the blonde, moving to grip his shoulders in his hands. "I don't know what it is." He whispers, and then presses his wet lips against John's.

John scoffs. "I'm certainly not good for you, Sherlock." He tells him and looks at him as he approaches, his eyes flicking down to where the other male’s rest on his shoulders, before glancing back at his face. He feels his breath hitch at his words, closing his eyes at the kiss. He was at a loss of what to do, but then he kisses back, wrapping his wet arms around the male’s neck.

Sherlock moves his lips slowly, sliding them against John's as he drifts through the water towards him. Sherlock tilts his head to the right, one of his hands slipping up to the blonde's neck to press him closer.

John moves along with his motions, kissing him softly, nipping at his lower lip before pulling back a little, glancing up to his eyes. "We shouldn't do this." He whispers.

Sherlock groans a little as John pulls back. He shakes his head. "You're right. We probably shouldn't." And he was going to stop, but then he met John's eyes and he couldn't help but kiss him again.

John nods when Sherlock agrees, but his breath was taken away when he was kissed again, actually laughing against his mouth. "You were right about the self control thing." He murmurs.

Sherlock nods. "Yes." And then he cups his hands against the back of John's head. "Now shut up and let me kiss you." He leans in once more, silencing John with his lips.

John sighs into him and was about to say something else before he was being kissed. This time he didn't hold back, tangling his fingers in the other boy’s wet hair. He kisses back like his life depended on it, pressing their chests together.

Sherlock sighs into the kiss, the two boy's breaths mingling together. He wraps his arms around the rugby player, his arms tight around him. His tongue flicks out to drag across John's bottom lip, and he can taste the cinnamon of John's mouth around the chlorine of the pool, pulling a satisfied sigh from him.

John opens his mouth to let the other boy in, his fingers clinging to his hair as he leaned his back against the side of the pool, the taste of alcohol and just Sherlock clouding his mind as he licked into his mouth.

Sherlock allows his tongue to wrap around John's for a few moments, moaning at the slipperiness of the two boys wound together. He feels the slight pull at the roots of his hair as John grasps it, and winds his legs around the blonde in a desperate want to be closer to him.

John holds the other male up, running his hands down his back and holding him up by his thighs, grinding his hips against him unconsciously, a quiet moan in the back of his throat.

Sherlock moans at the direction of John's hands, grinding against the boy in return. His right hand moves up to thread into John's short, wet hair as his tongue flicks against the blonde's, his heart pounding. The smell of chlorine and John fills his nostrils and his mind allows the smell to invade him and overpower him.

John's finding he's at a loss of breath, the combination of the alcohol and Sherlock making him feel dizzy as he kisses him so thoroughly, pulling away for breath only to place kisses on his jaw and neck. "I think... We probably shouldn't be doing this... In the pool." He snickered, casting his eyes to the male's, trailing his lips against skin.

Sherlock nods, and then gasps at the feeling of lips on his neck. He hums with pleasure, eyes falling shut as he murmurs, "What about... In the shower?"

John laughs lowly and nods. "Well, there's less chance of drowning." He agrees, letting go of the male’s legs, and turns around to drunkenly climb out of the pool, water dripping down his naked body and then waits for Sherlock to follow.

Sherlock follows, not even trying to hide his half-hard arousal. He smiles slightly, a hand brushing through his wet curls.

"Lead the way." John smirks, letting the other male move in front, and follows. "Good Lord, I better not remember this in the morning." He murmurs under his breath as they head inside.

Sherlock walks to a large bathroom, the one he had used last time. The shower inside is large, just large enough for the two boys. He turns and gestures John inside before making sure there were towels for them both. Then, he slips in, closing the door behind him with a smirk.

John walks into the bathroom with Sherlock, and then into the shower booth, looking around curiously. He leans against the wall, turning on the water to just right, and quirks an eyebrow at him. "See something you like?" He teases.

"Yes. I do." Sherlock says boldly, licking his lips. He moves to stand under the perfect, near-scalding hot water near John, turning away from the blonde so that all he could see was the water running down his back.

John eyes the water running down the male’s back, moving a hand to gently run his fingers down his pale skin, taking a step closer to place a kiss right in the middle of his shoulder-blades.

Sherlock smiles at the feather-light touch against his back, and then shivers a little at the kiss. "That almost feels like romance, little Watson." He murmurs low, his eyes falling shut.

John snorts. "You can't have anything nice without making a big deal out of it, can you?" John moves around him to stand in front of him. "I don't do romance, Holmes."

Sherlock smiles a sad smile, and then responds. "I suppose I can't, John, since I don't get anything nice. Not even the most basic of human emotions, like love and caring." He bites his lip, eyes downcast. "But that's just how my family is." He shakes himself slightly to stop thinking about it, and then stoops down a bit to press his lips to John's.

John listens to him, a sadness in his eyes at his words and raises a hand to touch his face gently. "I'm sorry that your family is a bag of dicks." He murmurs, and only presses forward when he was kissed, running his hands down the male's chest and around his waist. "I'll make you forget for a while." He whispers into his lips, eyes on his.

Sherlock smiles gratefully, his eyes softening. "Thank you." He whispers back, allowing the motion to morph into a long, lingering kiss.

John nods and kisses back, letting his hands roam all over the male's body gently and sensually. His kisses are soft, and he walks backwards a little to press himself against the wall, only pulling the male closer.

Sherlock leans over John, his right forearm above the blonde's head. His left hand reaches up to cup John's cheek, thumb brushing over John's soft skin and stubble.

John releases a long breath at the touch, breaking their kiss for a moment. "You don't have to be so gentle... I won't break." He tells him softly, through kisses on his jaw and a line back to his lips.

"I want... To be gentle." Sherlock responds, eyes fluttering at the kisses. "To go slow."

"Oh?" John's lips nip at Sherlock's lower lip, and his hands gently trailing over his torso. "Why?"

A moan stutters out of Sherlock at the sensations. "B-Because... You'll probably leave again, and I want to be able to cherish this. The slow exploration of our bodies. Rather than, like last time, when we were basically animalistic about it." He licks his lips and swallows, mind becoming jumbled.

"Cher- ... Cherish." The word feels foreign on his tongue, a frown on his brow. "I'm scared." John admits in a whisper, casting his gaze downwards.

Sherlock moves his left hand to cup John's chin, trying to force the boy to look in his eyes. "Scared of what?" He asks, his voice a husky whisper.

John bites his lower lip and looks up at him. "That I'll keep coming back to this." John murmurs, his voice barely audible. "That I'll keep wanting it."

Sherlock's eyes widen, slightly surprised. "If you do, I'm always here. I won't judge, as you know. And I will be completely secret about it." He whispers all of this, looking into John's eyes and seeing the fear plainly there.

John blinks and licks his lips, running a shaky hand over his face. "But I'll judge me. When I'm more sober, and in my bed at night..." John shakes his head and rests his forehead in the crook of the male’s neck.

Sherlock kisses the top of John's head, and says, "We all do that to ourselves. And maybe I'm sorry for the pain or confusion this may have caused, but I'm not sorry for the actions themselves. If something is enjoyable, let it be." Sherlock wraps his arms around the blonde in a hug, just letting the boy breathe and think a little.

John takes in a deep breath and allows himself to be hugged. "What about when you're sick of it being a secret?" He moves to look up at him, a question in his face.

"I won't be. I have no one to share it with but the one person that actually gives me compassion." Sherlock shakes his head. "I am alone if not with you. Maybe I'd get sick of being pushed around when I deserve more, but you give me that 'more.' You give me hope." Sherlock murmurs all of this honestly, seriously, hoping to a God he doesn't believe in that the words won't scare John away.

The corner of John's mouth quirks up into a tiny smile but then another thought hits him. "And... What if I get a girlfriend or something?" He asks, pulling his lower lip between his teeth and chews on it uncertainly.

Sherlock straightens just a little, a small recoil from the words that he attempts and fails to mask. "I don't know. But I wouldn't tell any one about us, if that's what you're asking. And... If you got a girlfriend, would you still be... With me?" As Sherlock says the words, he does his very best not to emphasize the word 'if'.

John takes in a deep breath. "I don't know anything right now. Why is this so confusing?" He leans back into the wall, resting his head against it and closes his eyes for a moment.

"Do you know how this..." Here, Sherlock places a sweet kiss to the side of John's neck. "Feels? Or how this..." Sherlock places his palm on John's chest, thumb brushing against his collar bone. "Feels? Or maybe how this feels?" He tilts his head just far enough to catch John's ear lobe in his teeth, knowing that the spot is sensitive.

John looks at him confused for a moment, before the kisses and the touches come, making his skin quiver and he looks right at Sherlock, nodding. "It feels good ..." John murmurs, bringing his gaze to look up at the taller boy, almost as if he's surprised to discover this.

"Then let it be, and let the questions come later." Sherlock whispers before nibbling at John's ear again.

John nods and turns his face so that their lips were pressed against one another, kissing him as gently as before, nothing feral, just letting it be and letting it feel good as he swallowed the other male's every breath.

Sherlock smiles and cups the blonde's face in his hands, gently. He uses light, soft pressure as he kisses John back, the sounds between them so quiet it was near silence save for the shower water.

John uses his fingertips to trail down Sherlock's ribs and down to his hips, gripping them tightly as he opens his mouth a little to let him in and let their tongues tangle sensually, slipping one of his legs between the male's and allowing their lower halves to touch.

Sherlock moans a long, quiet moan as they are brought together by John's movements. He doesn't break the kiss, but instead tilts his head to deepen it. He trails his fingers from John's face lightly, slowly down his sides and back up.

Soft sounds are drawn from John's throat, and a quiet moan fills the air as they kiss deeper, shivering lightly at the touches, John slides his hands around Sherlock's neck, bringing them as close together as he could, denying them both oxygen which they may need.

Sherlock's hands travel from John's sides to his back, wrapping his arms tight there. He gasps at the feeling of John so willingly tugging him closer, and he breaks the kiss only to press slow, soft ones on John's neck.

John arches his body into Sherlock’s, tilting his head to give him more access with the kisses, before returning the favour and kissing all over the male's neck, soft nips and sucks at the skin as he did, moving to kiss lower down his chest, his fingers leaving hot trails over his abdomen, his breath heated against skin.

Sherlock shivers at the touches, then simply licks at John's neck, tasting the cinnamon-y John flavor that he loves so much. "Mmmm..." He makes a pleased sound, savouring the taste.

John turns them around so Sherlock was the one with his back to the wall, and he kissed a line down his body as he fell to his knees before him, hands on the boy’s hips and glanced up, licking his lips a little nervously. "I've... I've never..." John motions vaguely, to express that he's never given a blowjob.

Sherlock's eyes widen at what John plans to do, and then he stutters out, "J-Just go with what f-f-feels natural." He bites his lip, tongue flicking out to lick at a sore spot.

John nods, experimentally moving one hand to wrap around the boy’s length, giving it just a few long strokes, his eyes captivated by the movements, and he swallows. He leans in to lick just at the tip of his member, before taking the whole head into his mouth, glancing up at him as if to ask if what he was doing was okay.

Sherlock's eyes drift shut and he holds back a groan as John somehow manages to be perfect at it with no previous experience. "John this... Is amazing." He gasps in two short seconds.

With a feeling of satisfaction in his chest, John proceeds to take more of the male into his mouth, going as deep as he could without choking and stroking what doesn't fit with his hand. He slowly pulls his lips back up, barely a graze of teeth on skin as he rubs soothing circles into the male's hip.

"Ahh-uh." Sherlock whimpers, mouth wide in shock and ecstasy. The teeth made his body go completely still, his mind blanking for a moment as he hisses a breath in pleasure.

John takes Sherlock deeper into his mouth, swallowing around him before dragging his lips slowly back up his length, and removing his lips with a silent 'pop', only to lick up the underside. His breathing is quick and nervous, hands shaking a little.

"John... _John._ " Sherlock says, trying not to buck his hips. "Ahh hmm." The brunette gasps out, fingers moving to grasp at John's sandy hair.

John shivers at the sound of his name, only encouraged by the noises before simply wrapping his lips around him once more and bobbing his head up and down. He gives soft pressures with his tongue, a groan in the back of his throat at the tugging on his hair.

Sherlock bites his lip and pants out, "I'm... Close." His head tilts back at John's quiet groan, a long, quiet moan escaping his lips.

John nods, only sucking harder, gripping his hips hard with his fingers, soft sounds released from his throat as he sucked a little harder on the tip, before taking in more of him than before.

"Ahhh-oh, oh! John!" Sherlock gasps out, feeling the warmth beginning to curl in his abdomen. "Coming, _now_." He gasps, the fingers on his hips only bringing him closer.

John removes his mouth as the male comes, letting the release be washed away by the water and moves to get up, placing small kisses on his hips and abdomen, before finally moving up to his mouth and kisses gently. "That was... I just gave a blow job." John giggles, at a loss.

Sherlock still feels rubbery and special when John says the words, and presses a small kiss to his forehead. "A really good one at that." He laughs softly at John's expression, and then asks, "What would you like for me to do?"

John closes his eyes and scoffs. "Maybe a good attempt." He laughs a little and leans into him, shrugging and he drags his lips over the skin on his neck. "I don't know... What do you want to do?" He glances up at him.

Sherlock smiles. "Well, I could do what you just did..." He trails off, hands trailing up and down John's sides. "Or, you could fuck me." He smiles a bit at the thought, wondering what that would be like.

John sucks in a quick breath, shivering lightly at the touches. "I want to fuck you." He breathes against his cheek, nipping at his jaw with his teeth, and moves to grind his aching hard-on against him. "I say... We move this to the bedroom?"

Sherlock nods and smiles, then says, "Certainly." He turns and shuts off the water, and then steps out to grab the towels for the both of them.

The blonde steps out behind him, taking the towel from him and moving to dry off his own skin. He makes his way out of the bathroom and to the male's bedroom, glancing behind him with a seductive smirk. "Come on then."

Sherlock finishes drying off, then follows John to his own bedroom, smirking as he shuts the door behind them. "So. You wanted to fuck me, hmmmm?"

John watches as the door closes, and swallows hard, walking over to him he leans into the male's ear. "Mhm. Nice and slow... You'll feel me for a week." He breathes, nipping at his ear with his teeth and grins.

Sherlock bites his lip at the comment, his eyes drifting shut. "Mmmmm..." He hums, leaning against the sandy-haired boy. "I like the sound of that."

John smiles and places slow kisses all over his neck. "When you walk... When you sit..." He smirks teasingly, kissing over a mark he'd left on his neck. "When you look in the mirror." He breathes before taking his hand and tugging him toward the bed.

Sherlock smiles a wistful smile and allows himself to be pulled to the bed. "I am perfectly alright with that. Please, do proceed." He says, his tone slightly teasing. He sits down and lies back, before asking, "Ahh... Hmm, how would you like me?"

John chuckles and nods, wavering a little bit as he watched the male lay down on the bed, before climbing onto it with him and settles between his legs. "Just like this." He murmurs and runs his hands down the male's chest. "Tell me Mr. Holmes, what do you... Deduce about me right now?"

Sherlock smiles, glad the blonde wanted to face him. Wanted the... Intimacy of face-to-face. "I have noticed that you seem much calmer than before, your eyes are dilated, but not wide enough for me to be worried that it's because of the alcohol. No, that seems a natural dilation. You hesitate just slightly, but it's a mindless hesitation which you brush off quickly, more of a reaction than anything else. Your cheeks and ears are tinted pinker than the rest of your complexion, suggesting shyness, but also happiness, arousal, and anticipation. Also, you chose face-to-face, which suggests that perhaps you are more interested in intimacy than you put on. I hope none of this bothered you. I wouldn't want that." Sherlock adds the last two sentences as an after-thought, eyes searching John's for feedback.

John watches the boy's lips move, taking in every word and quirks an eyebrow, more of his skin flushing. "I suppose... I am still a little bit drunk." He snickers and thinks for a moment, fingers trailing over skin. "I've always preferred to see the face of the person I am with, no matter who they are..." John tilts his head to the side. "I'll probably be thinking differently tomorrow." He chuckles a little and moves his hands to thread his fingers through the male’s curls.

Sherlock nods, uncertain but hopeful. He licks his lips as John moves his fingers through his hair, and says, "So. Shall we?" And smirks flirtatiously. He reaches up and grasps John's face in his palms, bringing the blonde down for a kiss.

John nods and feels an uncertain flutter in his chest, leaning down to kiss back deeply, biting on the male's lower lip gently, before pulling back for breath. "Do you still have... The... Uh..." He feels too awkward to actually say it, but glances to the male's drawer, pressing their hips together.

Sherlock nods, and points. "You saw what I did. You could do it, correct?" He didn't especially want to move, not when he was pressed perfectly into the mattress like this.

John cocks an eyebrow. "Do you doubt my fucking skills?" He snickers, before shifting to get off the male and goes to the drawer. He gets the small bottle and is instantly back on top of him, kissing his mouth thoroughly.

Sherlock shakes his head at John's silly question, and then watches as he gets the bottle. Sherlock finds himself licking his lips in anticipation, just before they are captured in a deep kiss.

John moves to kiss down his neck, running his hands down the male's body much like he would a woman and kissing down his chest, all the way down to his abdomen and his hips, nipping at tiny parts of skin with his teeth. He opens the bottle and puts some of the gel onto his fingers, taking in a deep breath before starting with the preparations and sliding one finger into the male’s entrance and kisses the inside of his thigh.

Sherlock's breathing becomes much shallower, arriving in quick little pants as John moves to prepare him. At the slick, cool sensation, Sherlock hisses in a breath, a dent appearing between his eyebrows. "God, John. The little kisses and mmmm... This is--I--" He tries to show his approval but can't even really manage to pull a sentence together.

John smirks into his skin, slowly moving his index finger in and out of the male, small breath brushing over his skin. "For someone who usually has a lot to say... I'm having a great effect on you." He chuckles and once deemed ready, he starts to gently push in his second finger.

Sherlock breathes quickly, choppily, and says, "I-- ahh, uh, this is--" He stops as John pushes in a second finger, eyes popping wide. Then, he tries again. "Mmmhmm, this is good... I ahh... John, God, John _yes._ " Sherlock flushes in embarrassment at his inability to form coherent thoughts, but hopes John gets the idea.

John stretches the male as best as he can with the two fingers before adding a third, placing his mouth on any skin he can reach. He kisses from thigh to hip to his member, peppering soft kisses all over his body as he makes sure that the boy is stretched well enough, his own length twitching with the anticipation. "Almost..."

"Aha, aha, aha... Yes." Sherlock pants vocally, then his head falls back and presses into the mattress. "Yes, John, damn it I love this what..." He swallows, unable for a moment to speak. "How'd you last? At all? God, John I want, fucking _want..._ " Sherlock's hands fist in the duvet, his eyes opening wide and then squeezing shut with the sensory overload.

John removes his fingers slowly and looks up at the male. "Shhh... I'll give it to you." He moves to put some gel onto himself, his chest rising and falling in quicker breaths and he chuckles, leaning over the male to kiss him. "I've had practice." He winks and moves his hands to spread Sherlock's legs wider and positions himself at his entrance. "Ready?"

Sherlock licks his lips and nods, almost too emphatically. "Mmm, yes." He says, nodding his assent to the act. "Just fucking... Fuck. Fuck me." He murmurs, eyes wide and face warm. "S'il vous plaît, John, S'il vous plaît." He whispers, his languages muddling together as he marvels at how easily John can make his mind disappear.

John's muscles quiver at how undone the other boy sounds, a quiet laugh escaping his lips when he switched to French and he nods, kissing him to quieten him. He grips his hips before pushing in all the way slowly, stopping once fully in, a low moan in the back of his throat. He runs his hands up the male's arms, pinning them beside his head by the wrist, claiming kiss after kiss as he waits for him to adjust.

"Ahhh..." Sherlock gasps out at the sensation of being full, of surrounding John's thickness. As John pins his wrists, he can't help the growl of approval from escaping his lips, his baritone voice low and gravelly. As John peppers him with kisses, he feels his body adjust to the intrusion. "John." He says, breathless. "Déplacer, please." Then, realizing the languages had jumbled again, he rolls his eyes and says. "Move. It means... Move."

John's breaths are coming faster now, and he watches the male's face, quirking a brow when he once more changed languages. "You're sexy when you can't think straight." John whispers into his cheek and nods, before starting to move the lower half of his body, out of the male but not fully, before thrusting his hips back in, keeping his movements slow and sensual, in no rush. "Sherlock... fuck..." He breathes, his own mind on the brink of losing it at the feeling of being inside the male. "So good."

Sherlock's eyes widen at the 'sexy' comment, and a breath hisses into him as John begins to move inside of his highly sensitized entrance. His stomach muscles clench as he groans with the delicious motions. At John's quiet utterance, he bites his lip and squeezes his eyes shut at the wave of ecstasy he feels from the praise.

John's eyes search the other male's face, his damp hair clinging to his forehead as he moves with slow fluidity, his legs shaking a little but he was determined not to rush. His breath is coming out in quick pants against the male's neck, and he releases his wrists, running his fingers all the way down his arms and to his chest. Loud moans fall from his lips, and almost silent groans of the other male's name.

Sherlock's awareness of his surroundings lessened to only John, taking in his smell, the feeling of his voice vibrating against Sherlock's ear, the slow slide of his length inside of the brunette. Sherlock arches his back, causing the sensation to grow as John's member pushed perfectly against his prostate. He moans, his arms and legs wrapping around the other male's torso and bringing him closer.

John gasps as he was completely enveloped into the male's embrace, shivering as he kisses down his neck. He doesn't hold back on sucking marks onto his neck and kissing up to his mouth, claiming it as he moved his lower half a little harder, loud moans falling into the other boy’s mouth.

Sherlock goes half crazy with the kisses and marks, and can't help but moan when John moves harder inside of him. His teeth catch John's lower lip, and he bites at it before replacing his teeth with his tongue and then his lips. His lips capture John's lower, and he sucks at it between gasps of pleasure.

"F-fuck..." John moans at the bites to his lips, scratching his nails down the male's sides, before running his hands up his thighs, changing the angle of his thrusts a little to hit his prostate better. "Sherlock ..." He moaned, only pressing himself closer. "I - I'm ... I'm close now." He warns, speeding up his movements involuntarily.

Sherlock moans in approval, hardly able to nod his agreement. He gasps for air as each thrust hits his prostate now, coming faster and faster. He moans open-mouthed, John's name drawn out in his tongue.

A few more hard thrusts, and his movements become jagged, overwhelmed by the heat John only knows that he can't stop now. "Kiss me." He demands, blue eyes on the male's face. "Kiss me like you've always wanted to kiss me Sherlock..." He whispers, licking his lips.

Sherlock's eyes widen at the command, and he immediately complies, finally allowed. He grasps the blonde's face in his palms, smashing their lips together with a desperation he hasn't thought possible of himself. He kisses John as if he wishes to swallow him, to merge the two together, to never release him. His eyes close of their own accord, and he finds himself moaning with a completely different pleasure. The pleasure of allowing himself what he hadn't previously.

John's own eyes widen at the fact that he gives back into the kiss as much as Sherlock was taking, the kiss different than all the others shared. Coupled with the pleasure of being inside the male, John was lost. A moment later he was coming hard inside the male, actually whimpering into his mouth as he did, getting completely lost in him.

Sherlock allowed the kiss to push him over the cliff into a strong orgasm that made the world disappear. His voice mirrors John's whimper and he shudders as the world returns to him.

John falls into the male after he feels him come, his chest rising and falling rapidly, but he gave the other male a much softer kiss on his mouth before resting his face in his neck.

Sherlock smiles in approval at the soft kiss, his arms encircling the other male's torso. He sighs contentedly, his breathing slowing as he relaxes.

John moves a moment later. "I don't want to get stuck." He says by way of explanation as he gets off him slowly, his limbs jelly-like. He moves to get some tissues to clean themselves up with, then makes his way back to the bed and slips in under the covers. "Come..." He looks at Sherlock, biting his lower lip.

Sherlock nods, and then crawls up the bed to settle beside the rugby player. "That was completely fantastic." He murmurs, contented.

John nods and licks his lips, moving to lie close to him when Sherlock laid beside him. "If you didn't guess already, I'm sleeping over..."

Sherlock smiles and moves to wrap his arm around John, pulling them closer together. "That is perfectly fine with me." He says quietly, a finger tracing random lines on John's chest. "Would you like some pyjamas?" He asks, purely out of courtesy. He doesn't want to move at all.

John tangles their legs together as he was held close, breath brushing over the skin on Sherlock's chest as he shakes his head. "No, unless you wanted to put them on me." He snickers a little and closed his eyes, a soft hum on his lips. "I don't feel like I ever want to move again."

Sherlock shakes his head. "No thank you. I'd much rather you this way." He smiles and adds, "Neither do I." Then he leans over to brush his lips against John's, a kiss very similar to the last they had shared.

John laughs a little. "Mmm, I knew you'd say something like that." John tilts his head up into the kiss, only deepening it slightly but lazily, running his fingers up and down his stomach gently.

Sherlock smiles, glad that John had allowed him such a pleasure. He pulls back, and whispers against John's lips, "Thank you. For allowing me that.”

"What? The kissing or the fucking?" He snorts a little and smirks, moving a hand to brush his fingers along his neck. "Good luck explaining the hickies to people." He teased a little.

"Both, really, but mainly... Mainly the kissing. I have wanted that kind of kiss for so long, but I was too afraid to ask." Sherlock responds, smiling. "And I will likely feel smug about those, if you don't mind. But what they don't know won't hurt them."

"Well... As long as it wasn't too disappointing from my part." He snorts a little and cocks an eyebrow at his next words. "Why smug, out of all things?" He asks him curiously, kissing gently over one of the marks.

"Smug because I know you this way. Because the marks were received during an act that I could never be ashamed of. An act which brought me immense pleasure. An act they are too bigoted to consider." Sherlock smiles at the small kiss, his stomach fluttering. "That feels nice." He admits quietly, reveling in the feather-soft touch.

John frowns a little and licks his lips. "I suppose. It's just sex though." He murmurs and shrugs, chuckling softly. "You're such a girl." He snorts, a tease in his tone. "I expect you to make me breakfast tomorrow." John smirks a little.

Sherlock smiles, rolling his eyes. "I do make a mean omelet." He says in jest. Then, he pauses. "Well, actually I do, if you'd like that." He offers, reddening slightly.

John snorts a little and glances up at him. "I'm not much of a breakfast person. But thanks." John closes his eyes and just listens to the boy's heart beat. "I don't feel drunk anymore." He admits.

"Neither do I." Sherlock responds. "I do feel high, however." He laughs slightly. He feels warm, content. "I don't want to move." He adds honestly.

John laughs. "High? You haven't been taking anything." John shifts a little next to the male and nods. "Nor me... I don't... I don't usually stick around, you know, after... so this is weird." He admits.

"No, of course I haven't been. However, this feeling is comparable." Sherlock's says, laughing and pressing a kiss to John's chest. "I wouldn't know about the other thing, but I would say that this is nicer than last time." He kisses the other boy's chest again, and then can't help but ask, "Would it be alright for me, at some point, to leave my own mark on you? Not on your neck, of course, but..." He trails off, considering possibilities.

John rolls his eyes. "You're weird, you know that?" He murmurs and allows the kisses to his chest. "Nicer? In what way?" He questions lightly, and then narrows his eyes a little in thought at his question. "Why do you wanna leave a mark?" John sounds a little confused, meeting the boy's eyes with his own.

"Of course I am strange. Always have been. And it is nicer now, because this time I can share this with you. Rather than it being cut off by you leaving in haste." He smiles and presses a kiss to John's jaw this time. "And I would like to leave a mark because I have been restraining from doing so, and I feel like it would increase your own pleasure, along with mine. If this occurs again. And I suppose it is also because it would be a secret proof to me that says I am allowed."

"I still get the sense that I should move right now and flee like before." He admits quietly, and tilts his head to give better access to his neck, chuckling softly. "Secret proof... Very poetic." John teases and draws little patterns on Sherlock's chest with his fingers. "But you're right... The main word is 'if'." John murmurs and casts his eyes to the ceiling.

"And I understand that." Sherlock responds, ignoring the 'poetic' comment. He tilts his head up, his lips brushing against John's pulse point, the spot smelling of cinnamon.

John nods and takes in a deep breath at the kisses. "Are you sure no one is gonna come home?" He asks after a few moments, his tone slightly uncertain.

"Yes, I am certain. If it would make you more comfortable, however, we could remove the traces of what happened from downstairs." Sherlock shrugs, knowing it would be pointless. "My parents decided to leave the grounds to me, and have taken up residence in our summer home. This house is mine. Mycroft, my brother, lives near his University in his own home."

John takes a moment to think on his words and shakes his head. "No, I believe you, and I can't be bothered to move anyway." He glanced up, curious for a moment. "Why didn't you go with them? To the summer home?" John asks softly, "Was it because school or...?"

"There is no love for me there." Sherlock responds, rolling his eyes at how cliche that sounds. "I figured that it would be pointless." He settles closer to the boy, tucking his face into the crook of his neck and just breathing in the scent there. "Cinnamon and sex. That is what you smell like." He murmurs quietly.

"But they're still your parents... It sounds so lonely." John comments on his words and wraps am arm around his shoulders, smiling a little at the comments. "And that's a good smell I suppose?"

Sherlock smiles as John's arm wraps around him, and tilts his chin up to whisper in John's ear, "I am not lonely at the moment. And yes. It is a very good smell. Delicious, you could say." He kisses the shell of John's ear and tucks his head again, lips seeking out the spot just below John's jawline.

John shakes his head and blows out a breath. "I won't be here all the time." He points out and smiles, chuckling softly. "Mmm, good enough to eat huh?" He grins a little and leans into his kisses, moving to thread his fingers through Sherlock’s curls.

Sherlock nods slightly in recognition of John's statement, never moving his lips from the spot. "Mmm." He vocalizes quietly, nose skimming lightly over the blonde's jawline.

John shuts his eyes to the feeling of Sherlock's lips on his skin. "I'm sleepy now." He murmurs quietly, his whole being feeling heavy as he keeps with the soothing motions of his fingers in Sherlock's hair.

"Me too." Sherlock responds, his eyelids already sheathing his cerulean eyes. He kisses the blonde's neck once more, and then his head drops against the arm beneath it. His own arm snakes around John's waist, pulling himself flush against the boy's side. His breathing slows, and he smiles silently.

John smiles and snuggles into him. He falls into his embrace easily, enjoying the closeness as he drifts to sleep, limp but content against the other boy as his breathing evens.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fourth chapter! Wow, I didn't realise just how much Jur and I had written. We still have a long way to go, dears! Thanks for reading, for the comments and kudos and the bookmarks!!
> 
> There's no smut in this chapter, but a healthy dose of angst is on the plate tonight. Enjoy!

As Sherlock slowly woke, he realized that for once he was not alone. He and John were tangled together in a mess of limbs, sweat, and sheets. He smiles at the sight of John's face, completely relaxed in his sleep, even with a small smile. The brunette carefully, gently disengages himself from the rugby player, sliding out of bed. He slips a pair of pyjama pants on, then quietly closes the door behind him and pads downstairs to make himself breakfast.

John wakes at the sound of the door to the room shutting, blinking blearily as he rubs his eyes, running a hand through his hair and making it stand on end. He moves to get up a moment later, realising that his clothes are downstairs, he spies the other male's dressing gown. He slips it on before he walks out of the room and moves down the stairs slowly, standing in the doorway of the kitchen as he leaned against the hinges, arms crossed over his chest. "Hey."

Sherlock startles and turns around with the frying pan still in his hand. "Oh! Hello." He says quietly, setting the pan back on its burner. "I thought you were asleep." He says quietly, running a hand through his curls. "Are you certain you didn't want anything to eat?"

John shrugs and rubs his neck absentmindedly. "I heard the door shut, I'm not used to waking up in someone else's bed." He snickers a little and shakes his head. "No, but I'll have a coffee if you have any." He pads over to the chair, the kitchen tiles cool under his bare feet as he sits on a chair, eyes on his own hands.

Sherlock nods and turns to start the coffee. His omelet looks done, so he slides it out of the pan, folding it in half on a white plate. "The coffee will be ready soon." He says, and then quirks an eyebrow in interest. "Wait. So if you never stay over, then why did you last night?" He bites his lip as he grabs a fork, averting his eyes from the blonde.

John nods and leans back in his chair and brings his fingers to his mouth, nibbling on a bit of skin and listens to his question, shrugging. "I dunno? Usually there's someone in the house... So I don't wanna get caught, but your house is empty so I figured that would be fine."

"I see." Sherlock responds, then takes a bite from the omelet. It's delicious; cheese, bacon, bell peppers, and chives. He vocalizes his approval with a groan as his eyes drift shut in bliss.

John watches him eat, eyes focused on the male as he seems to enjoy his food so much. John clears his throat, shifting in his sea and licking his lipst. "So, how about that coffee then." He murmurs, "As much as I hate to interrupt the love affair between you and your food."

Sherlock's eyes open, the lids half-way down. "I'm sorry. It's delicious." He smiles warmly, getting up to grab two mugs. "Do you take sugar or cream?" He asks, putting some of both into his own cup.

John rolls his eyes a little. "And do you always make noises meant for a porn film while eating?" He asks without batting an eyelash and licks his lips. "Sugar is good, thanks."

Sherlock feels surprised, and responds quietly, "Oh. I see." He smiles to himself, not having realised what he was doing. "Sorry." He mutters, dropping sugar into John's cup. He grasps them both and pushes John's toward him before slumping down into his chair.

John cocks an eyebrow and laughs a little. "Dude, it's cool. Whatever floats your boat." He winks and takes his coffee, taking in the smell for a moment before taking a sip.

Sherlock blushes slightly, sipping his own coffee a moment before taking another bite of the omelet. He smiles and hums quietly in approval before swallowing and saying, "Did it... Ahhh... Turn you on?" He asks the question tentatively, feeling shy.

John closes his eyes as he drinks his coffee, but opens them at his question. "I'm a boy, just about anything turns me on." He snorts a little, taking a few more sips.

"So that's a yes?" Sherlock can't help but prod. He licks his lips and finishes his omelet, then stands up to clean the plate and put it in the dishwasher. He settles down again, gripping his warm mug in his hands. He smiles and then asks, "So I can turn you on accidentally?" He hadn't thought of this previously.

John shrugs and bites his lower lip. "I suppose? But pretty much rubbing my dick against a tree would make me hard so..." John eyes him and tilts his head. "Why?"

"I just. I hadn't thought that possible. That's all. I never thought of myself as attractive, really at all. But you don't have to be attractive if you can accidentally turn someone on, I suppose." Sherlock responds, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.

John snorts. "So, you're worried that I only fucked you because you turned me on accidentally?"

Sherlock startles at John's intuition and stutters out a quiet, "Y-yes!" In spite of himself. "Am I even... Even attractive?" He asks, somewhat concerned.

John drinks some of his coffee and tilts his head. "Of course, I wasn't speaking clearly during the fucking, but I meant what I said." John's referring to the slip of the mouth in which he called the other male 'sexy' and he shrugs.

Sherlock chokes a bit on his coffee, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. "John!" He coughs out, shocked. "I... Thank you." He says after finally managing to stop coughing.

John laughs a little and stirs his coffee. "It's no big deal. Calm your tits." He sighs softly and takes a sip of the coffee. "I'll... Probably head off after the coffee."

Sherlock nods. "Okay." He responds, finishing his coffee and setting the mug in the sink. "You may want different clothing, however." He adds, before disappearing upstairs and returning with clothing of John's size and style. "Here, these should be right." He says, pushing the fresh, clean stack of clothing towards John.

John finishes his own cup and stands, eyeing the clothes before him. "Who's are these?" He frowns a little and thinks. "I dunno... It would be a bit weird if I came home with someone else's clothes on..."

"They're brand new." Sherlock responds, his cheeks and ears turning pink. "A... Congratulatory present. See, the teacher told me about your grade, so I went ahead and bought you this." He smiles slightly, even bitterly. "The jumper and trousers ought to be your size. I had to guess, but I think I was correct."

John stares at him for a moment. "You... Um... You did what?" His voice incredulous. "And whatever made you think that... Clothes are the right 'congratulatory present'?"

Sherlock blushes even harder. "I... I noticed how much you like jumpers, and so I got you this one. I think it would compliment you nicely. And I couldn't just buy you a jumper, so I also bought trousers to go with it. If you don't like them, I can by all means return them." Sherlock bites his lip and shuffles his feet awkwardly. "I never get presents for people." He says honestly. "This just seemed... Appropriate."

John narrows his eyes for a moment, somewhat taken aback but takes the clothes from him. "Just a jumper woulda been fine, this is borderline creepy." He tells him as he eyes the clothes for a moment. "Might as well let me borrow some of your underwear too then."

Sherlock nods and chuckles. "Alright." He responds, glad that John seemed pleased. He gestures with his hand up the stairs. "Take your pick, second drawer in the cherry wood dresser."

John walks up the stairs, making sure that nothing is visible from underneath the dressing gown. After closing the door, he opens the drawer and picks out the first pair. He puts it on and dresses in the clothes he was given, actually surprised that they fit him well. Running a hand over his hair, he was back downstairs in a few minutes. "So, how does it look?"

Sherlock had been sitting on the couch with his fingers steepled under his chin when John re-appeared. He looks up at John's voice, and then finds himself just _looking_. His mouth opens to respond, but his mind isn't quite as fast. His eyes travel slowly down the length of John's body, taking in how well the blonde's muscles are complimented, how well the trousers hug his strong legs. His thoughts jumble as he realizes that the jumper was perhaps the exact shade of blue the rugby player's eyes had been, and his tongue flicks out to wet his lips as he attempts once more to respond. "It looks... Very nice." He says slowly, the words fully inadequate to what he means.

John shifts a little uncomfortably from the blatant checking out, flushing a little as he clears his throat. "Um... Thanks." He murmurs, walking over to his shoes and bending down to put them on, before moving to collect the clothes from the day previous and putting them in his bag. Then he looks at the male. "You were right, I like jumpers and stuff... But you don't need to buy me shit when I pass tests."

"Alright." Sherlock responds, nodding quickly with a smile. "I won't. But I'm glad you like it." He adds, composing himself. "I'll never admit how much I am glad, or how much I myself like it. But there you are." He says, smiling strangely.

John cocks an eyebrow. "You know, for someone so intelligent, you speak a lot of bullshit." He laughs a little. "As I'm sure you saying that you'll never admit those things actually says a lot." He hums a little and runs his hands over the fabric of his jumper. "This shit look expensive as fuck though."

"It is no cost to me." Sherlock responds, and steps closer to John. He quickly brushes the back of his hand against John's cheek, savouring the slight scratch of stubble. He bites his lips and steps away. "It suits you very well, if I do say so myself." He adds, willing himself to stop feeling this way, to stop wanting the boy he shouldn't deserve to even be around.

John eyes him as he touches his face, biting his lower lips a little and nods. "Well... thank you." He moves away as the other boy does, an awkwardness creeping in. "I better get going..."

Sherlock nods. "You know the way." He says, turning away from the boy who would ignore him for the rest of the day. He scratches the back of his head as he silently awaits the cool gust of air that would mean John had gone.

John starts heading towards the door, but in a heartbeat he turns back and walks over to the male, kissing him flat on the mouth before pulling away. "See you later." He says, and then he leaves, closing the door hard behind him.

Sherlock's eyes had closed as he felt the air at his back, and they opened wide at the kiss and John's words. The door closes tightly, and he finds himself standing in the spot for a full minute, surprised. Then, once his gangly limbs recall the word motion, he slowly moves up the stairs to get ready for school.

\- - - - - -

Sherlock loped into his History class just before the bell rang, slumping into his chair as the screeching noise echoes through the school halls. He pulls his notebook out immediately, knowing the teacher wouldn't dare to ask him to put it away, as he was the best student in class. His hands take on a mind of their own, something he hadn't had much time for lately. Deep lines appear on the crisp white page, and his mind slowly relaxes to the scent of graphite, rubber, and paper.

By the time John came home, his parents were at work and he couldn't face going into school, not then. So he went back to sleep for a few hours, having called the school to say he wasn't going to be in. When he awoke, he texted Sarah to come round, which brought a pang to his chest, but he refused to acknowledge it.

Sherlock wouldn’t let himself worry about John, chalking up his disappearance to coincidence. He managed to pretend this to himself all day, though it pained him to think of why he might be wrong.

John liked sex with women, and it seemed like having Sarah was a good reminder of just how much he did. When she came round, you could say there wasn't a lot of talking, and his mind was distracted from wandering to the dark-haired male.

Sherlock threw his things into his bag as the end-of-day bell rang, then dashed out of the room, hoping to get away before any of the rugby players decided to pick on their favorite faggot. He didn't need it, couldn't handle it, not today.

John lost his sense of time throughout the day. His parents not coming home until late allowed him this time with Sarah, and he was glad as it took his mind off everything. Or so he told himself.

Sherlock pauses after locking his car doors, then pulls his phone out. _Where have you been all day? -SH_ He types out, his fingers shaking as he clicks the send button.

John groans a little at the sound of his phone, and moves his hand from under the covers to reach it, Sarah's breath in his neck. He eyes the text, his heart sinking as he typed back. _sick. at home sleeping. dont worry._

Sherlock rolls his eyes at the response, then types back. _Certainly. -SH_ He starts his car, hands turning the wheel towards John's street.

John typed back quickly. _c u at skl tmrrw_ Then, after tossing his phone to the side he found the lips of the girl next him with his own.

Sherlock hears his phone chime, but ignores it, eyes on the road. Soon, John's house appears in front of him, and he turns in and parks. As he gets out, he sees a strange car, but shrugs, thinking it might be a family member of John's. He lopes up the walk, and soon his knuckles rap against the door.

John hears the door, and debates not answering it, but a few minutes later he huffs, putting on his underwear he walks to open the door a crack, and his eyes widen to see the other male there, his heart thudding with nervousness. "Uh... Sherlock... What are you doing here?"

"We never got any actual studying done yesterday." Sherlock responds, scratching his arm as he realizes something isn't quite right.

John frowns a little. "You really came here to do work after I told you I was sick?" He doesn't quite believe him.

Sherlock leans in just a little, and lowers his voice. "No, but I don't want who ever else is here to hear why." He responds, knowing that the other person couldn't be a family member, not with him so scantily clad.

The blonde narrows his eyes a little. "And what makes you think I've got anyone here? Maybe I just like to sleep in my pants."

"The other car." Sherlock responds, rolling his eyes. "Don't think me unobservant." Sherlock crosses his arms and smiles, for once perfectly able to hide his emotions.

John tightens his grip on the door handle. "What do you want Sherlock?" He sighs a little.

Sherlock sneers. "I simply wanted to see if you needed anything. But it is apparent that you do not, as you were lying in the first place."

John crosses his arms over his chest. "What the fuck do you care?" John's heart beat a little faster, hoping that Sarah wouldn't come to see what was going on, the cold air from the outside making him shiver and covering his skin in goosebumps. "I need to go back inside so I don't get a fucking cold."

"You know that I care. You know why, and you are just playing stupid to hurt me more." Sherlock says, his voice deadly quiet. He glares at John, his face paling with anger. "Besides, liar, people get colds not from being outside in cold or wet weather, but from being inside too much and touching things with bacteria on them more often."

"Whatever." He says, referring to 'how to get a cold' but then he sighs and takes a minute, stepping out of the door a little. "You knew. You knew that I would go back to fucking girls, so you're just hurting yourself. A couple of fucks don't mean anything, Sherlock." His voice was as quiet as the other male’s, the anger making his breath a little faster.

Sherlock steps back, eyes going wide as he shakes his head. "You don't mean that." He chokes out, angry and sad at the same time. "You can't mean that." He says, then spins on his heel and runs back to his car.

John couldn't say anything to that, and watched the male’s back as he went, shutting the door hard behind him. He goes back to his room, telling Sarah that it was time for her to go. He picked his phone back up once she left and he had dressed, his whole body restless for a few hours, having to physically stop himself from texting the boy or going down there.

Sherlock returned home, and slammed the door behind him. He runs upstairs to his room, ransacks the dresser for his last pack of cigarettes, and then grabs them and goes outside to smoke near the pool. The pool, where he and John had kissed and shared quiet moments. _Quiet moments that apparently meant nothing._

\- - - - - -

As evening dawned, there was no way that John could sit still any longer. Shutting the door quietly behind him he shoved his English book into his bag and headed for his car, making his way all the way to Sherlock's house and rings the doorbell.

Sherlock awoke from his stupor, and unfolded his rumpled self from the couch. He makes his way to the door and checks the peep hole. Seeing John, he sighs and his forehead falls forward to touch the door a moment before he unlatches the door. "I think you've done enough." He says quietly.

John sighs and shifts on his feet a little. "You were right, we did no work yesterday. Might as well get some done, no?" He bites his lower lip, just staring at the floor uncertainly.

Sherlock sighs. "I am not in a great state of mind for tutoring at the moment." He says, but steps back anyway to allow John inside. Sherlock swallows, still feeling sad and angry. "I hate being a teenager." He mutters, looking down at his bare feet.

John nods and eyes the inside of the house, hesitating for a moment as his fingers grip the strap of his bag tightly. "I can come back later...?" He suddenly feels like this was a terrible idea, but takes a step inside anyway.

"I don't care what you do, to be honest." Sherlock lies as he closes the door behind them. He latches it and returns to the couch, slumping into it and just letting go. As his facial muscles relaxed from his stony glare, his eyes softened and his mouth tugged down at the corners. "I just... I thought you at least had the decency to care a little. Or that you could care. I thought maybe you even returned what I feel." He says quietly, his breath hitching around the words.

John feels his heart beat harder in his chest, and walks a few paces behind the male, soon stopping to just look at him as he spoke, casting his eyes to the floor a little. "It's just a crush Sherlock. You'll probably be over it by next week."

"Stop lying to me!" Sherlock shouts, shooting off the couch. "I know myself. Holmes's do not have 'crushes'. They either feel naught at all, or they feel completely." He growls in frustration and pain. "Don't _fucking_ lie to me." He says, slightly quieter now. "Don't you fucking dare."

John winces a little at the loudness of his words. "Oh come on 'feel completely' after you've known me a couple of weeks?" The blonde narrows his eyes at his last words. "What do you want? For me to profess my undying love for you? Is that what you want?"

"I want you to be HONEST!!" Sherlock rages, his fists balling. "I know, I fucking know what you said earlier wasn't true." He clenches his jaw, the tendons on his neck standing out under his pale skin. "Just don't fucking lie to me, you bastard." He says, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

John sucks in a deep breath, and drops his bag to the floor, running both of his hands through his hair. "That's just the way I am. I fuck people I don't give a shit about because there's no strings attached." John tells him, not angrily, just with frustration. "And guess what? You can't fucking expect me to lay myself out for someone who won't even remember me the moment he goes to college. I'm much happier not caring than investing myself in something that isn't gonna last."

Sherlock is blown away at John's words, his eyes widening. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?? If I was going to forget about you, why would I be practically begging for you to stop being such an _ASSHOLE_ AND FUCKING TELL ME WHAT YOU FEEL?!" Sherlock shouts, lunging forward and gripping the shorter male's shoulders.

John shuts his eyes at the grip on his shoulders, and turns his face away from the male. "I don't know." John tells him, voice quiet. "I don't feel things easily Sherlock, never have. You can't demand them from me and I can't tell you if I like you or not because I don't fucking know and I'm scared. That's what I'm feeling; scared." John refuses to meet the other boy’s gaze.

"Is it so wrong for me to want you this much?" Sherlock asks, his voice a broken whisper. He tilts his head down and presses his forehead against John's. "Is it so wrong?" He repeats, his eyes drifting shut as his mouth wobbled slightly. His hands move from John's shoulders as he wraps his arms around him, feeling defeated and sad and wrong. "Please." Is all he whispers, his heart loosening from its place in his chest to fall into his stomach.

John shook a little against his touch, arms by his side as the boy wrapped his arms around him, not meeting his gaze. "I think... I think it's complicated." John finally sighs, turning his face to meet the male's. "I'm not gay, I know I'm not." John explained quietly, his voice barely above a murmur. "I just... I don't even know why you _do_ want me at all. There's no... Happiness for you here, Sherlock, and you know it."

"There is the potential for happiness if you would allow it." Sherlock whispers back. "I don't care if you want no one to know, if you want to be secretive, if you're confused." He bites his lip and catches John's eye for a millisecond. "I can't help it. I want you. Your mind, your body, everything. I want it all." He swallows as a tear frees itself from his eye and falls onto John's cheek. "All." He whispers unhappily.

"You will care. Eventually. You'll get sick of it." John meets his gaze for a split second, his words making the boy's limbs limp as he slumped against the wall. The feeling of the male’s tear on his skin makes him shut his eyes, fingers finding their way to the male’s forearms and gripping the muscles there. "I... I don't know what to say. What do you want me to say?" He whispers, at a complete loss.

"I just want you to say yes." Sherlock whispers in anguish. His whisper chokes off at the last word and his breath shudders out of him. "I want this to be real. To be more than just one-sided. And I know that maybe you can't give me that easily, but I wish you would try."

John moves his hands to place them on Sherlock's neck, opening his eyes to look at him properly for the first time. "I suppose... I suppose I can try. And me willing to try is saying that I maybe feel something but... Patient. You're gonna have to be patient." He breathes with a small nod of his head.

Sherlock bites his lip and his eyes widen at the quiet words. "Thank you." He whispers in quiet shock. "Thank you so much." He repeats, his eyebrows pulling together in honest emotion. "You can't even possibly understand what this means that you will even try." He smiles through his tears and presses a very small kiss to the boy's forehead.

John nods and lets out a shaky breath, tilting his head up to kiss him gently on the mouth, and pulls back a moment later. "You were smoking." He comments, tilting his head. "I thought you'd quit."

"I... I smoked because I was stressed out and sad and angry. I smoked approximately half a pack." He admits ashamedly. "I um... I can brush my teeth real fast." He says and then chuckles awkwardly.

John shakes his head. "No, it's cool. It doesn't bother me." With a soft sigh, he pulls himself away from the male and moves into the room, crossing his arms over his chest. "Now what happens? Not just here... In general?"

"I honestly don't know. You are figuring things out and I know exactly how I feel. I am content just knowing you will try. And that this is... Real." Sherlock responds, mirroring John's motions.

"How do you do it?" John asks, moving to sit on the couch and crosses his legs. "How do you know exactly how you feel and aren't afraid to tell the world? Even when they treat you like shit?" John frowns a little, glancing up to the male in confusion at this.

"I know how I feel because I feel, period. And I am open about it because I know that I am superior to them, as well as because I know it is right and the real world isn't as bigoted as the high school world." Sherlock smiles.

John licks his lips. "I feel... Things. Anger mostly. Sometimes I'm sad and unhappy, but I do feel." John leans his head back a little. "Why not just wait 'till you're out of school? School has the means to ruin a person. I would know. I've been the person doing the ruining." He mutters darkly.

"I see no point in waiting for something which could bring me happiness." Sherlock responds. "And you did... Other things than 'ruining'." Sherlock says, blushing slightly.

John sighs and looks at him. "Are you talking about yourself, or everyone? You're not the only person my friends and I have picked on. And if anyone ever knew... about this, well, I would have any friends."

"I'm speaking solely for myself, and I know that there have been others. But I don't really care about them." Sherlock shrugs. "You and I matter. Grades matter also. Nothing else really does."

"That's where you're wrong." John looks at him. "It's not as easy for me as it is for you... Do you realise how hard it would be for me to be on a team of people who would hate me? A lot more matters than you think Sherlock."

"I wasn't saying that you don't matter. I was saying that I don't care about the others you and your friends have bullied." Sherlock replies, walking into the kitchen to make himself some tea. "Would you like some tea? I also have biscuits." He offers, setting the kettle on and leaning against a counter. "And I by no means was saying that you should 'come out' or anything. As long as you try to be more clear with me, and I'm allowed to touch you, I could care less what you tell people."

"Yeah, tea's good." John moves to get up and makes his way to the kitchen. "I suppose. I won't be telling anyone anything." He sits on a chair and swings his legs a little.

"Alright." Sherlock grabs two mugs and sets them on the counter, and then pauses. "So... Am I allowed to touch you? To kiss you?" He asks, biting his lip.

John nods. "Yeah... Yeah I suppose you are." He looks at him and quirks his lips into a tiny smile.

Sherlock's face lights up, and he can't help but grin a little at the words, coupled with the expression on John's face. "And can I call you adorable or sexy and make jokes and draw things for you?" He asks, his curious mind pulling random ideas out of thin air.

John feels himself flush at his words and looks down at his hands. "Um... Sure, but not in public?" He tilts his head a little and moves to bite at his nails a little. "It'll take some getting used to I suppose."

"Of course not in public." Sherlock replies, laughing at the idea. "God, that would be stupid." The kettle screams, and he moves to turn off the burner, then pours water over the teabags in the mugs. He sets a mug before John and sits beside him with his own, allowing the mug to warm his hands while the tea steeps. "I'm glad." He says quietly, his eyes catching John's.

John chuckles with him. "Yes it would." He watches the male’s movements as he makes the tea, leaning back in his chair and casts his eyes to his face as he sits down beside him, moving his own leg a little so their knees bumped together. "What about girls?" He asks after a moment, confused simply because they weren't technically dating

Sherlock shrugs. "I don't know, to be honest. I mean, certainly, I feel somewhat... Possessive, but I wouldn't ever stand in the way of you having a heterosexual relationship. I wouldn't exactly be happy about it, and I'd probably wonder why, because, well... I'm certain I could keep you satisfied." Sherlock says honestly, moving his own leg so that their calves press together as well.

"Could you?" John smirks a little, after a moment moving to take the teabag out of his mug. "You'd... Actually be okay with me being with girls the same time as with you?" The blonde bites his lip in thought for a moment, enjoying the feeling of their legs touching. "The same goes to you then? If there are any other... Uh... Boys."

"As long as you are honest about it and don't say you're sick... Yes, I suppose that's fine." Sherlock says. Then he smirks. "Of course I could. Don't think I haven't noticed the spots that make you catch your breath, the places that make you bite me a bit harder." He licks his lips, his foot curling behind John's, liking the warmth there.

John nods. "Yeah, well, I suppose I panicked after last night." He shrugs a little. "But I can be honest." John eyes him as he speaks, holding his breath. "I... I suppose you would. Being who you are and your skills of deduction." He chuckles and takes a sip of his tea.

Sherlock nods his thanks, sips at his tea, and then says, "Or it's just that I enjoyed those moments. I find it very affirming to be able to turn this obnoxious jock into a writhing mess with a few touches of tongue and teeth." He smiles warmly, his mind recalling the expression John can get when Sherlock teases at a particularly sensitive spot.

John feels his face flush a little and rolls his eyes. "Shut up, I'm hardly obnoxious." John kicks the other male's foot a little. "You're the one who barely has a coherent thought and switches languages in the middle." He points out, a smirk on his face and winks.

"You certainly are obnoxious, cussing so often as you do." Sherlock laughs a little, then adds, "And you liked it." He winks and takes another sip of his tea.

"Cussing hardly makes a person obnoxious. It's more of a habit." John smirks and nods. "Can't say that I didn't. I like having the power to turn the guy who usually has a fuckload to say speechless."

"A 'fuckload'? Why, I apologize for being literate. All I do is make good use of grammar and my vast vocabulary. Honestly, I will never comprehend why that is such a chore for people." Sherlock grins again. "And I like that you have such a power, little Watson. It's quite... Ahh, enjoyable."

"It isn't a chore. It's just... Not the way I speak?" He laughs a little and taps his fingers a little against his mug. "And you love my swearing, you said so your self in the pool the other night." John nods and purses his lips. "I hardly sound powerful if you call me little, you asshat." He rolls his eyes.

Sherlock smiles. "Yes, I do enjoy it. Strangely. It's somewhat... Endearing. And it isn't my fault that you are the size you are. You are little. It's cute." He hides his smirk behind his mug, closing his eyes a moment.

"I thought we were going for 'sexy' and there you are calling me cute." John laughs a little and grins. "You're just tall. Most people are about my height." John moves his hand under the table to place on the male’s leg just to tease him a little, and sips his tea.

"Just because I think you're cute doesn't mean we can't go for sexy." Sherlock chuckles. "I always think you're cute. Even when we're in the middle of... Things. The face you make during orgasm is adorable, actually. You wrinkle your nose a little. Anyway... You're little compared to me. Even your hands are small." He smiles softly at the hand on his leg, and his eyes meet John's blue ones.

John clears his throat, actually blushing at his words. "Shut up, you're not really supposed to talk about... Those things. It's awkward as fuck." John raises his hand in front of him and the male, takes his hand and aligns it palm to palm, fingertip to finger tip and smiles. "See, not that much smaller. I've got some pride, next you'll tell me I've got a small dick."

Sherlock smiles and laces his fingers with John's, resting them on the table. "I didn't know that." He says, and then adds quietly, "And I'd never say that your dick is small." He licks his lips and blushes. "But your hand is a bit smaller than mine, John. Approximately half an inch, and they are less wide as well."

John eyes their laced hands, and squeezes his fingers a little, eyeing the movement of the boy licking his lips, before focusing back onto his words. "Uh... Yeah I suppose. You know, small hands can make sure I pay attention to all the right places." John winks, an amused smile on his lips as he finishes off the contents of his mug. "Thanks for the tea."

Sherlock shudders slightly at the comment, and then nods in recognition of John's thanks. He smiles distantly, his eyes stuck on those lips, small and perfect, delicious and evil.

John meets the male’s eyes, shifting forward a little, as he places a hand on the boy's neck and pulls him down to meet his lips softly, gently, as he sucked in the air which Sherlock breathed out and shut his eyes.

Sherlock allows himself to be tugged forward, his lips always happy to be occupied with John's. He kisses back just as softly, with a sweet little sigh that tugs at his heart. His hands release his mug, and he shifts to get closer to John, hands at the blonde's shoulders now.

John touched the male’s cheek gently, sucking his lower lip into his mouth for a moment and releasing a small sigh of his own. He only pulls back when he needs breath, his eyes meeting Sherlock's. He smiled a little. "I should go soon." He murmured quietly, hand still on his cheek.

Sherlock smiles contentedly. "That is alright. I feel... At peace now, I suppose is how to put it." His left hand reaches up, and he lightly trails his first two fingers over John's cheek. "And we should probably eventually get real work done." He reminds the rugby player as his thumb brushes just beneath one of his brilliant blue eyes.

"I suppose that's... Good." John smiles and his eyes flutter a little at his touch, and he nods. "Yeah... Whenever is good for me." John leans into his touch a little, his blue eyes meeting the male's. "I don't think either of us are in the mood for studying today."

"Not especially, no." Sherlock admits with a chuckle. "I'm glad things turned out this way, rather than with anger and hurtful words." He cups John's face tenderly, looking into the boy's serene blue eyes. "You are welcome here any day." He says quietly. "I have no one else any way."

"Yes. You would be, wouldn't you?" He laughs a little and croons into his touch a little, biting his lip he nods. "Sure... We have a lot of studying to do anyway." He chuckles but then his expression turns serious. "You could always make some friends."

Sherlock smiles a soft, sad smile. "No one wants me. Not when they know what I am." He responds quietly. "But it's alright." His hand moves back a little so that his thumb rests in front of John's ear, and his fingers cup the back of the male's head. He leans his head forward and pecks John's lips and cheek, settling back a little to let their noses touch as he whispers, "I meant all I said earlier. When we were arguing... I _do_ want you. Maybe even too much. But I want you, I do, and I wish society wouldn't say it was wrong."

"Not everyone does. Some people don't give a shit about what or who you like." He murmurs quietly, his breath hitching a little at such soft touches, closing his eyes at the small kisses he listens to his words, smiling a little. "Wanting something too much isn't always a bad thing." John explains, sighing softly. "Well, one day it won't be wrong. It's only because we're in high school, the real world might be a little more forgiving." The blonde shrugs and looks at him. "I think for now... For now it's okay as it is, could be worse?"

Sherlock nods, his lips pulling up at the corners. "Yes." Is all he replies before kissing John softly on the lips. He would always be glad for this boy, the one who perhaps was difficult, but was worth it. The one who cared just enough, and made him happy. He was so, so grateful for the boy sitting before him.

John moves off his chair to stand between the male’s legs as he was kissed, wrapping his arms tight around his neck when he kissed back, despite himself loving every moment, but knowing that when he got home he would wonder if he did the right thing. For now he was content to just kiss and be close to the boy.

Sherlock practically collapses against John, his arms circling the boy's waist tightly. He found himself kissing John in a different way than usual, allowed now to kiss the boy as he pleased. He keeps the kiss slow and deep, his breaths mingling with John's as he falls into the kiss with abandon.

John is unable to keep the small noises of satisfaction from escaping his lips, giving back as much as he was given. His fingers snake into Sherlock's curls easily, the kiss slow and deep, making his body shiver with the feeling. Only when he needed breath he pulled back, only to place smaller kisses on the boys kiss-reddened mouth. "You know, for someone who doesn't do this a lot, you're a good kisser."

Sherlock's eyes widen. "Really? Oh. Thank you..." He says, shuffling his feet self-consciously. He smiles. "I could kiss you all day, to be honest." He says, smiling a coy smile and peering at John through his lashes.

John laughs a little. "You know, you don't need to thank me every time I say something." The blonde licks his lips and plays with Sherlock's dark hair, his fingers scratching his scalp lightly. "I don't think that would be practical..." He teases a little.

Sherlock shivers slightly at the scratch of John's fingers, and he bites his lip. "It's only courtesy. And to the other thing... It could be practical if that was what the aim of the day was." He smirks, looking up at John with an earnest yet teasing expression on his face.

"Taking into account that it's no longer daytime..." He chuckles and gives him a few more kisses on the mouth. "When do you want me to come round for actual studying?"

Sherlock smiles. "Come by any time, I'm always here. Or check the library." He says, then steals John's lips for another soft, lingering kiss. He pulls back and then says, "What's with the cinnamon? Do you eat cinnamon sticks constantly or something? It's delicious, but I was just curious." He licks his lips, wanting the taste to stay.

John laughs a little. "You need to get out more." He teases softly and returns the kiss, frowning in amusement to his words. "Um... Not really? But my mum likes putting it in things when she bakes... I guess it kind of sticks?" John's eyes follow the movements of Sherlock's tongue as he licks his lips and he swallows a little.

"You also smell of cinnamon. Perhaps your cologne." Sherlock says. He leans up to catch John's lips again, this time simply dragging his tongue over John's lower lip without preamble.

"Possibly. I'm glad you approve." John grins and closes his eyes a little as the male’s tongue dragged across his skin, he moved his mouth to capture his tongue between his lips and smirks. "You taste good too."

A chill rolls down Sherlock's spine, and he can't help but groan. "You're killing me." He says, then pulls John into his lap so he can control their kisses better. He tilts his head just forward enough for their noses to brush, and hesitates, staring deep into John's eyes as he waits.

John huffs out a breath and eyes him. "I'm hardly doing anything." He breathes and sits on his lap, returning his gaze as he touched their lips together gently, then again and again as he leaned in close to him.

"It's enough." Sherlock gasps between soft little kisses. His palms rest against John's shoulder blades, and he allows the kisses to stay short. He finds he enjoys this type of kiss, short, sweet, gentle, and perfect. Each touch of lips adds to the warmth in his heart, and he finds himself thinking he'd be perfectly content to stay this way forever.

John sighs softly against his lips. "I really need to go... School tomorrow. And early practice." He murmurs a little regretfully, brushing his fingers over the skin on the back of neck.

Sherlock nods. "Okay. Just..." He trails off and kisses the flushed lips again, unable to help himself. He pulls back just enough so that the two male's faces are mere inches apart, noses brushing. "Just come over?" He asks shyly.

John smiles at him softly and nods. "Sure... No practice after school, so I can come then?" The male licks his lips and pulls back a little more. "Besides, you have my number and all, you can text me whenever."

"Okay." Sherlock responds. He smiles. "I'll keep that in mind. Do you keep your phone very private?" He asks, wondering if he could get away with flirting with John through text.

John laughs and cocks an eyebrow. "Am I to be expecting dirty texts?" He teases and shrugs. "Yeah, except if I'm drinking, but I'll delete anything I don't want seen."

"You might get some dirty texts then." Sherlock admits quietly with a smile. He sighs. "Ugh, you should probably leave before I become unwilling to let you go." He says, and then trails his fingers down the side of John's neck.

“Why, Mr. Holmes, I would not expect such behaviour from you." John laughs and moves to get off him. "Good idea. Cause I might just be tempted to stay." He smiles a little and runs his hands down his torso to smooth invisible wrinkles on his jumper.

Sherlock licks his lips and allows his eyes to travel over John's body slowly. "Sorry for the eyefuck, but I couldn't help it." He says teasingly, standing as well. He stretches and yawns, his whole body straightening in the motion.

John smirks and snickers. "You're really apologising for checking me out?" He eyes the stretch appreciatively and winks, before heading into the main room to pick up his bag and waits for him at the door. "So... See you tomorrow then..."

Sherlock blushes slightly, then strides over to where John stands with some confidence. "I think yes." He says, and then stoops to kiss John soundly on the mouth.

John grins into his mouth and kisses back. "Seriously, I'm never gonna be able to leave if you just keep kissing me." He places his hands on Sherlock's chest and pushes him back, opening the door, he leans in for one more small kiss. "Sleep well." He smiles before heading off.

Sherlock smiles after him. "You too." He answers, watching the boy walk away. He sighs happily and then lets the door click shut before slumping against it. He grins and his mind plays over the words John had said just before walking out.

John grins all the way back to his car, making his way home soundlessly and managing to sneak back into his room quickly. He was in bed and under the covers in minutes, feeling much happier than he had in a long time. He placed an alarm on his phone just to make sure, and he played over the day’s and the night-before’s events in his head.

Sherlock stays there for a while, just thinking about how John smelled, how he sounded and talked and smiled and kissed. Eventually, Sherlock gets up and heads to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Once finished, he flops into bed in just some pants and falls asleep nearly instantaneously.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been super busy all year! Started senior year, FINALLY. This chapter has smut, fluff, angst, all that good stuff. Bonus: Wall sex! :) I hope you like it! Jur is once again on vacation, for another two weeks, I believe. Maybe once she's done, she'll make an appearance here, since she deserves some of your lovely praise too. 
> 
> Oh, and by the way: Jur is English, and I am American, so, I have a different schedule from her. This means that any of her posts(if she ever posts a chapter, it might just be my job now) will be at a different time from mine.
> 
> As always, feedback is very, _very_ appreciated! In fact, I'd like to ask if you guys think I should go back and do summaries for each chapter?
> 
> If you think I didn't tag something properly/should warn for anything, please just comment and I will fix that.
> 
> Update: I am so sorry, this chapter's really late. I've been so busy, and Jurate has been on vacation, but I AM POSTING NOW.
> 
> ANOTHER UPDATE: I'm really sorry loves. Here is the way-too-long-awaited chapter.
> 
> Enjoy!

The alarm rings at a time which seems much too early, but John forces himself out of bed and into the shower, still half asleep as he goes down to the now-empty kitchen, since his mother left way earlier. He grabs just an apple as he slings his bag over his shoulder, picking up his gym bag and heads to school for practice, his mind taking some time to catch up with him and last night’s events, but there's a smile on his face once he does, all the way to school.

Sherlock is woken by the alarm, and rolls over. "Fine." He mutters crossly, throwing the sheets off and sitting up. He crosses the room to where he had placed his alarm after he slept in far too long one morning due to the snooze button. After switching the alarm off, Sherlock wanders into the bathroom to take a shower and get ready. By the time he's finished and at school, he is feeling significantly happier and walks with a spring in his step. No rugby players in sight, none that could ruin his day anyway.

After practice and all showered, John starts heading to his first class, his eyes sub-consciously seeking out a head of dark curls, and quickens his pace when he spots him, letting their arms brush as he walks past him, gazes meeting for a split second before he was headed into his English classroom.

Sherlock manages not to smile, his nose happily taking in as much of John's scent as humanly possible. His hand touches his arm in the place that John had brushed against it, and he blushes slightly, glad no one was paying attention to him. He walks the rest of the way to his Economics class with a quiet buzz of happiness in his mind.

John tries to pay attention in his classes, but they were mostly boring. He kept to himself all day really, kind of afraid that the events of the last few days would be written all over him, and by the time the last two lessons of the day come he's deciding to skip. Pulling out his phone, he opens a blank text. _fancy skippin last 2 w/me? ;)_ He finds Sherlock's number and sends the text.

Sherlock's phone buzzes in his pocket, and he surreptitously glances down at it to see the text John had just sent. He allows himself the smallest of smiles and responds. _I've never ditched before. I suppose it's time I try it. -SH_

_John grins and heads to his car. look @ u becoming bad... where do u wanna go? meet u outside gates_

_Sherlock rolls his eyes. Wherever you'd like to go. -SH He slips his phone in his pocket as he makes his way off of school grounds._

_John snorts a little. do u have ur car? cause u dont wanna leave it at school_

_Yes, but it's off school property. I don't need it ruined by some bigots. -SH_

_Cool. we r gettin lunch. we can take my car._

_Alright. I'm at the corner, down the street. -SH_ Sherlock leans against a brick wall and waits.

John drove to car to where Sherlock was waiting, and stopped, waiting for him to get in with a bright grin. "I feel like I'm corrupting you."

Sherlock slides in beside John. "Shut up. I'm the one who seduced you." He responds with a quiet laugh.

John rolls his eyes a bit. "I've fucked people before, and you've never ditched, so that's different." He laughs and starts to drive off the moment that the car door was shut.

Sherlock buckles himself in. "Still. You'd never had sex with a male." He says, shrugging. "If you say so." John smirks and leans back in the driver’s seat. "I'm starving, so food before anything else, what do you fancy?"

"Anything, really, though a burger and chips sounds nice."

John grins. "I approve, Mr. Holmes. I was expecting you to suggest something insanely healthy." The male snorts a little and heads in the direction of a burger joint he likes.

Sherlock rolls his eyes and shrugs. "I usually just have take-out. Chinese, Thai.... Whatever. But a burger sounds good." He smiles.

John nods. "Fair enough. How was school? I found it dreadfully boring as always." He snorts a little.

"I pay no attention in class. I don't particularly need to. I asked for all the homework in the beginning of the year." Sherlock replies, clasping his fingers together and relaxing into his seat.

John snorts and rolls his eyes. "Yeah yeah, keep showing off. Not all of us can be as smart as Sherlock Holmes." He drums his fingers on the steering wheel along to the music.

Sherlock smiles. "Neiner neiner." He murmurs with a teasing lilt to his voice. He licks his lip and then adds, "You are selling yourself short. Not as smart as me, sure, but you are brilliant in your own way. Even when you're being an idiot."

John laughs a little, thoroughly amused. "Gee, thanks. Very comforting." The male grins, keeping his eyes on the road. "If you're always bored in class, then why have you never skipped before now?"

"I didn't want to get in trouble. Besides, where would I go?" Sherlock responds.

John smiles. "I guess I should have pegged you for someone who follows all the rules." A low chuckle falls from his lips and shrugs. "I dunno, somewhere that isn't school?"

Sherlock shrugs. "I don't necessarily follow all of the rules any more. My parents aren't here to punish me." He grins then. "Honestly, that opened up many doors for me. But I really have no idea where I would go. Perhaps I would travel."

"I don't think you can do much travel in two lessons worth of time." The boy teases a little and glances at him. "Why don't you then? Travel I mean, if you've got the chance?"

"I hadn't considered it until now." Sherlock responds honestly. He shrugs and then says, "If I were to travel, perhaps I would go to France. See the art there. Or perhaps Spain and Greece, for architecture."

John smiles. "I think you should do it if you wanted. Or if you didn't wanna drop outta school then wait 'till graduation." John finally parks in front of an old burger place, which he prefers way more than the popular fast food restaurants. "Come on."

Sherlock nods and gets out of the car. "I don't see the point of doing it unless someone is with me." Sherlock says quietly, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

John eyes him for a moment. "I'm sure you'll find someone." The male nods and heads inside, holding the door open for the taller boy and goes to take a seat at one of the tables, leaving the seat across from him for Sherlock, and picks up a menu. "Pick whatever you want, everything on this menu is good."

Sherlock grabs a menu and peruses it a moment before figuring out exactly what he wants. He sets the menu down and crosses his arms on the table to rest his head on them.

John gives the waitress a flirty smile when she comes over. "Hello. I'd like the number four from the menu plus a large coke. Please." The please was almost a purr, and he watched as the girl blushed and nodded, writing it down. With a small grin he turned towards Sherlock. "What do you want?"

"Cheeseburger and fries. No onions, please." Sherlock says to the waitress politely. He smiles softly as he realises that the long tablecloths gave him easy access to John's legs with no one noticing. Sherlock moves his foot forward slowly, finding John's ankle, and then nudges at it with the side of his foot whilst acting like he is bored and hungry.

When the waitress leaves, the feeling of the boys leg against his makes him chuckle a little and he responds with pressing his own foot closer to his, he picks up a napkin to play with, gently prying it apart into smaller parts. "You said your car is off school grounds... where did you leave it?" He asks curiously, tilting his head.

Sherlock allows his foot to curl around the back of John's ankle, and responds quietly, "A few blocks to the west. Why?" He then presses the top of his foot to the back of John's calf, running it slowly up.

John shivers a little at his touch and bites his lower lip. "Uhh... no reason, just curious." John's eyes meet the males and he returns the touch with his leg softly.

Sherlock nods. Then, he pulls out his phone and texts quickly, I am going to do so many things to you. -SH flicking the phone shut with a smirk.

John eyes him curiously as he was texted, his breath hitching a little, but there was a right out smirk on his face. "You seriously gonna sign every text you send to me as SH?" John asks, before typing his response. cant wait ;) like what?

"It's an automatic signature." Sherlock responds, licking his lips as he responds. Oh, you'll just have to wait, won't you? Though... I do particularly like the idea of pressing you tight against a wall and sucking a line down your neck. But that's probably just me... ; ) -SH

John reads the text, shifting a little in his seat. "Fuck..." He breathes, his eyes finding the males. now i've got a boner. i hope that helps out ur little fantasy. John winks, and runs a hand through his hair, smiling happily when their food was brought out.

Sherlock smiles a warm and teasing smile, then texts back, It certainly does. -SH He settles back in his seat as his food is set in front of him, the small table allowing him to still be close to John. His foot travels up passed John's calf, and nudges at the inside of the rugby player's muscular thigh teasingly.

The breath John released was shaky as the male’s leg travelled up his thigh, and he closed his eyes for a split second. "I fucking hate you." He murmured in a low voice, picking up one of his fries and putting it into his mouth as seductively as he could, his tongue wrapping around his fingers and he let out a soft groan, hoping to tease the male as much as he was teasing him.

Sherlock licks his lips at the groan, his lids falling as arousal grips him. He takes a bite of his burger, moaning quietly and allowing his eyes to roll back a little. The burger really was good, but he upped his reaction just so in response to John. His foot travels in towards John's lap, slowly moving in and out.

John shifts the lower half of his body forward a little bit and leans his back against the seat, watching the other boy enjoy his food. "Remind me never to have lunch with you again." He mutters, picking up his phone to type a text. ordering this 2 go and fuckin u senseless seems like a v good plan rn

"I won’t always be like this. Just find a place with shorter table cloths." Sherlock sees the text and doesn't bother to type out a response, simply allowing his foot to express his agreement for him. He licks his upper lip slowly in anticipation.

"Trust me. I will." John smirks, and his breath catches in his throat as he puts a hand under the table to run his fingers along the male’s leg, and nods, waving a hand at the waitress until she comes. "We'd uh ... can we have these to go please?" He smiles as she complies and licks his lips.

Sherlock sighs as John's fingers trail over his shin, his foot pressing against John's erection for a bare second. He smiles his thanks to the waitress as she takes his plate, and then rummages in his pocket for his wallet as he waits impatiently for the check.

John gasps at the touch, his hips bucking forward just a little, a flush on his cheeks and he pulls out his own money, glancing at the check when it came and tosses the money down, taking the bag from the girl with a thank you and was out of his seat in a flash, and out the door, knowing the male would follow.

Sherlock blushes and follows the boy after tossing his own money down as well. He slides into the car beside John, closing his door. "Go." He says, beginning to get more impatient.

John tosses the bag into the back of his car and laughs at the male, starting the car and drives towards the male’s house, shifting in his seat a little. "Fuck... driving with a boner... do not recommend." He grins a little. "You are such a tease Sherlock." He complains.

"You're so easy to tease. Maybe if you weren't such an easy target..." Sherlock smirks.

John snorts. "I can stop the car right now and there will be no fucking for you." The male gives him a pointed look. "And you and I both know you don't want that." John winks.

Sherlock grins. "Fine, fine." He says, palms raised in mock surrender. "I'll shut up."

John smirks. "Good boy." He nods, and is soon at the male’s house, parking in front of it, pulling him in for a single teasing kiss before he was out of the car, stretching a little.

Sherlock growls slightly and lopes quickly up the walk to unlock his door. He smiles rakishly as he slips inside, locking the door behind him as he watches John lope up the walk.

John walks towards the door with a kind of swagger, stepping past him and into the house, a teasing smile on his face. "Now, are you gonna make good on that promise?"

"Hell yes." Sherlock responds and immediately grabs John's shoulders and presses him to the wall. He begins a hungry trail of kisses down the side of John's neck and jaw, his hands already plucking at the boy's shirt.

"Good." John laughs as he was pushed into the wall, the noise turning into a grunt as he was almost devoured by the male, moving his arms around him to pull him even closer, grinding his hips against him, allowing his shirt to be removed and then kissing him hard.

Sherlock moans into the kiss, too far gone to retain much of his normal composure. His hands move everywhere, trailing down John's chest, teasing his nipples, touching the male's back and grabbing his ass. Sherlock can't help his noises, and finds himself gasping into John's mouth.

John's own hands slide under the male’s clothes, wanting to touch any skin he can, loud moans at the teasing and touching and grabbing escape his lips and he moves to kiss and suck and bite at the males neck, taking his jacket and shirt off as fast as possible. "Fuck," John breathes against his skin.

"Fuck me." Sherlock says, breathless at the touches. He turns them around so that he is pressed to the wall, his left hand already reaching for John's trousers. "Fuck me, John." He says.

John presses into him and kisses the back of his neck, hands slipping into the male’s trousers as he tugs them down, a low growl at the back of his throat. "Oh fuck ... I love you like this." He breathes into his ear, removing his own trousers and places his hand in front of the male's face. "Make 'em wet. Don't wanna hurt your pretty little ass, hm?"

Sherlock licks his lips and nods, and then wraps his lips around John's first two fingers. He sucks at the fingers, his tongue flicking between and around them. He then releases the two with a small noise and nods to John to continue.

John places kisses between Sherlock's shoulder blades, moving his spit-slickened finger into the male’s entrance, slowly stretching him as his lips caressed more of his skin.

Sherlock goes breathless at the sensation, his breath coming in pants and choppy moans. "Mmmm, oh fuck John." He gasps out, fingers tightening against the wall.

John chuckles breathlessly as he slips in his second finger. "You swearing turns me on, Holmes." He stretches the male as best as he can, hooking his fingers inside him and grinds his erection into the male’s thigh. "I need to be inside you now"

"Fuck, yes John, go." Sherlock says, arching his back against John's hand. "Now, fuck me now John." He says impatiently.

John licks across his own palm, gripping himself tight with one hand, and the males hip with the other, pushing into his entrance slowly, his moans loud, waiting a few moments for the male to adjust once he was fully in. "Fuck ... Sherlock ..."

Sherlock allows himself a moment to adjust, and then moans out, "Move, John." through clenched teeth.

John nods, both hands on the males torso, nails running along his skin as he moves out slowly, before sliding back in, setting a rhythm for his thrusts. "Fuck yes. Ahh..." The blonde moans, kissing and licking at the male’s skin as he pressed him harder against the wall.

Sherlock gasps at each thrust, his skin tingling from the kisses and licks. His fingers clench slightly at the wall, knuckles whitening as his pleasure builds. "Fuck yes John fuck me mmmmmm." Sherlock babbles between moans.

"With pleasure." John murmurs at the babble, fucking him harder now because he knows they can have slow and steady later. His fingers leave marks on the boy’s pale skin, the only sounds made being their pants and skin meeting.

Sherlock gasps with each thrust, his back arching with the pleasure. His head falls forward to rest against his forearm and he groans with lust.

John shifts a little to change the angle, his own breaths soft gasps at the sensations of being inside the male, his breath ghosting against his back. "Tell me how much you love it... when I fuck you like this Sherlock." He murmurs in his ear, nipping at the lobe.

Sherlock groans with unbridled passion and gasps out, "I fucking love it so much, John." He tilts his head back to John's mouth, wanting to feel more of it. "God, fuck, I love your cock so much." He moans, face flushing.

John grazes his teeth against the male’s skin, moaning loudly at his words, his thrusts harder. "Oh fuck ... you don't know the things your filthy mouth does to me." He kisses the words into his skin, fingers running along his hip bones and to grip the boy's hard length with his hand.

Sherlock moans immediately, his hips bucking. "I think I do." He says smugly, referring to him pleasing John with his mouth. Then, he moans harshly as John's cock rams directly against his prostate. "Oh!" He cries out.

"Cocky." John grins, his voice breathless, one hand moving to the males shoulder for leverage. "I'm... I'm so close." He groans, squeezing the male's member in his hand as he strokes it in time with his own movements, leaning into his ear. "Make me come Sherlock."  
Sherlock shudders at the words, panting. "Fucking come for me John." He says, licking his reddened lips. "Come for me, I want to feel you." He adds, feeling deliciously dirty.

John shudders at his words, shutting his eyes and rests his forehead against the male's shoulder-blades, going harder than before. "Come with me." He presses his chest into him, before coming with a loud shout. "Sher―Sherlock.... Fuck!"

Sherlock gasps and spills over John's hand as well as the wall, his breath shuddering out of him with a wrenched, "John!!" He pants as the orgasm slowly fades and leaves him with the floating feeling of the aftershock. "Fuck, John. That was amazing."

John grins and slumps against him a little, slowly moving out of him and turns the male around to kiss his mouth gently, a complete contrast to their previous actions. "Yes. Yes it was." He agrees, wrapping his arms tight around the taller boy's neck. "You're so filthy when we fuck." The blonde laughs teasingly into his lips.

Sherlock nods. He smiles softly and brushes his fingers slowly through John's sandy hair. He tilts his head and brushes a kiss to the shorter male's mouth, then says, "This time, anyway." He smiles happily.

The boy laughs a little. "Mmm, I like seeing you get that stick from out of your ass." He teases and kisses him again. "Now you better put some pants on and go get the food from the car, I wasn't joking when I said I was starving earlier." He snorts a little and kisses just under his jaw.

Sherlock smiles and nods. "I am as well. Even more so, now." He winks then grabs his trousers and slips them on. Sherlock presses a kiss to John's forehead, then ambles slowly out to John's car. He grabs the bag and returns, again locking his front door behind him.

John slips back into his underwear, picking up their clothes and tosses them on a chair, moving to sit by the table in the kitchen and smiles once the male returns. "Thanks. I feel like you'd do pretty much anything I ask right now." John teases, since the male had gone back to the car so willingly.

Sherlock shrugs. "I'm just as hungry as you at this point. It wouldn't have been prudent to try to push the task onto you when I probably would have ended up doing it anyway." He smiles. "Though I would do many things for you, without a doubt." He adds with a wink.

John smirks. "So eloquent not a single cuss in that sentence." John moves to take the bag from him and starts taking the boxes out onto the table, laughing a little. "Oh? And I suppose all of them involve acts of a sexual nature?"

Sherlock chuckles, grabbing his cheeseburger. He shrugs then says, "Perhaps yes. But I would do many things for you which would not involve sexual pleasure at all." He takes a large bite of his burger, his eyelids drifting shut as he chews happily.

John eyes him. "Oh? Like what?" He asks, curious now to the male's words.  
Sherlock opens his eyes, swallows, then responds. "Anything, really. Help you secure a job, help you with anything you asked. It doesn't matter." He shrugs, as if it is natural to be willing to do anything for John. And to him, it is. He always had been willing.

John takes a bite from his burger, and chews thoughtfully. "But I'd never really ask that. So." He shrugs a little and offers a smile. "Though really, you should be less willing to do those things for just anyone, Sherlock."

Sherlock nods. "Okay... But it isn't for just any one." His eyebrows pinch together, and he shrugs confusedly. "Is that... Not normal? For me to be helpful?"

John stuffs a chip into his mouth and shrugs. "Sure it is... things like letting people copy homework off you or helping an old lady across a street. Jobs and things? Not so much." He explains and takes a large bite of his food and hums in appreciation. "Good burger is good." He says around his mouthful.

"Oh." Sherlock responds somewhat slowly. "Alright. Well, I'd still do it for you. But whatever." He raises his eyebrows at John. "That was a terrible sentence, John! Haven't you learned anything?" He admonishes, shaking his head like a school marm.

John rolls his eyes a little. "Cool. But I think I can manage on my own." John chuckles and snorts, swallowing his bite. "I only have to use all that grammatical bullshit in essays, no way am I using that in everyday language." The male gives him a pointed look.

Sherlock slumps, defeated. "Fine. Enjoy being illiterate." He teases, standing up to get some water for himself. He sets the glass down and then grabs a couple chips and eats them as he chews, his eyes travel over to the wall, and he notices a spot there. "Oh, I should probably clean that up." He says, the tips of his ears reddening. He grabs a rag, wets it, then lopes over to the wall to dab at the spot.

"It isn't like you can't understand me. That's good enough for me." He nods, licking some sauce from his fingers delightfully, before the male's voice brings his eyes to the wall, a bright grin spreading across his face. "Hot. Petition to fuck on every available surface in this house." He wiggles his brows teasingly.

"If I grant this petition, which I would gladly, would you be able to see it through?" Sherlock asks, teasing right back. He steps back and checks, seeing nothing. He shrugs, then moves to the nearest laundry room to dispose of the rag. He re-appears in the kitchen, then leans down to whisper in John's ear, "Because I don't think you're up for it." He adds a nip to John's earlobe, then sits down to his food once more.

John eats happily, a bright grin spreading across his face as the male comes back to the table. "Mmm ... Don't test me." He chuckles and swings his bare legs a little. "No one said we have to do it in a day ... maybe in between English sessions." The blonde smirks.

Sherlock smiles wide at that. "Certainly. Speaking of English, perhaps we could get some done today?" He asks, since sex wouldn't get in the way now. He takes a large bite of his burger, nearly finishing it.  
John sighs but nods. "Yeah, I was coming round for that anyway today. English sucks though. I can speak it, why do I have to know all the dramatics of it." He snorts a little and finishes the last of his burger and takes a large drink of his coke.

Sherlock nods and finishes off his burger. "Alright, so then what is it next? What subject have you moved on to? I can't even remember."

John stands and starts cleaning up his mess, completely not caring that he was just in his pants. He finishes off his last fry and thinks. "Uh... Shakespeare? It was about those witch things..." He shrugs, tossing the empty boxes in the bin.

Sherlock does the same as John, dropping his trash in the bin. "Do you mean the apothecary?" He asks. He was a bit rusty with Shakespeare, having breezed through it in a couple of weeks.

"Huh? The Macbeth dude I think. But the first page of that had witches so I dunno. I don't really get it." John shrugs, and once they were done cleaning up, he went to put on his trousers and shirt. "Let me just go grab my bag." He nods, before heading to his car to get his backpack.

"Oh! So you aren't on Romeo and Juliet, then." Sherlock smiles. "It's so common for teachers to use that play." Sherlock waits patiently for John, settling back in his seat contentedly.

"Maybe my teacher wanted to be different." He chuckles and comes back with his bag, sitting across from Sherlock he took out the books he needed, handing him the play.

"Alright. First off: Do you have any trouble with the prose?" Sherlock asks, running his fingers over the book cover. "Because you seem to hate when I use correct grammar and vocabulary."

John takes the book from him and scowls. "This is hardly 'proper vocabulary' since it's so hard to understand. I understand you, but this dude ... not so much." He bites his lower lip and picks up his pen. "I think you just need to help me understand what the hell is going on."

Sherlock nods. "Of course." He pulls his chair closer to John's so that he can look over the blonde's shoulder. He points to a line at random, and says, "Okay, first off, do you know what the difference between 'thou' here, and 'thee' here?" He asks, indicating a second line as well. "And do you know what 'hath' and 'shall' and 'wouldst' mean?"

John smiles up at him a little, and breathes in. "You smell good." He comments, before focusing back to the task at hand, and bites his lip. "Um .. beginning and middle of the sentences? I'm pretty sure they both mean 'you'." John thinks for a moment. "Have, shall and would? They kinda sound like that anyway." He chuckles a little, scratching his scalp a little.

Sherlock smiles his thanks at John, then continues on. "Alright, that's correct. Has the teacher explained the general idea of what happens? The plot?" He then flips further into the book and points at a passage. "Here:  
 _'Whence is that knocking?―_  
 _How is’t with me, when every noise appalls me?_  
 _What hands are here! Ha, they pluck out mine eyes._  
 _Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood_  
 _Clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather_  
 _The multitudinous seas incarnadine,_  
 _Making the green one red.'"_  
He recites, and then turns to John. "Approximately how much of that did you understand?"

John takes a while to think on it, eyes glancing to the text, the wheels in his mind whirring. "It's a tragedy, so the Macbeth guy has to kill the king to become the king cause the witches told him to, and he and his wife go mad... that's as much as I know." He nods and thinks over the words. "He heard knocking... and he's... frightened? Of all the noises... there's blood on his hands and he doesn't think an ocean is enough water to wash it off... who did he kill?" John looks up at him, seeking guidance in his thought process.

Sherlock nods proudly. "Excellent! This is very good, John. Think about what you just said. Who was Macbeth to kill?" He asks, practically glowing with pride.

John huffs a bit. "Uh ... the ... king? To become the king?" He frowns a little in confusion. "This bullshit is hard." He mutters under his breath.

"Correct." Sherlock smiles. He presses a kiss to John's temple. "You only have to think about it. To stick with it."

He closes his eyes for a moment. "I'll forget it the moment I close the book." He snorts. "I'm just no good at all this ancient English crap."

Sherlock grins. "What especially troubles you? Here, think of it this way: This version of English is to my English as my English is to most people's." Sherlock says, hoping John will understand. "It's basically a step higher than my own. More poetic."

"Well, you sound like an old guy anyway." Smiles a little and shrugs. "I don't really appreciate poetry. Doesn't mean very much to me. I just need to get this English grade then forget about it forever."

"Then you are going to have to take in as much as possible as you can until your teacher moves on to another subject. It's really not that difficult, you just have to replace each word with an easier one. Like translating from one language to another." Sherlock says, and then peers at John quizzically. "Does that make sense?"

"I always sucked at languages." He chuckles and shakes his head but nods. "Yeah, I suppose. I need to write this shit down." He mutters as he moves to write what they were talking about. "So, what happens then? After the Macbeth dude kills the king? Don't they find out it was him... is that why he goes mad?"

"Yeah. See, you do understand, you just take a bit." Sherlock says, setting his hand on the back of John's neck his thumb brushes at the warm skin there. "You're doing fine." He says soothingly.

"Yeah. Not everyone gets things as easy as you do." He snorts a little and leans into his touch a little bit. "I just hate it. Feeling stupid."  
"John! You aren't stupid." Sherlock sighs. "You have strengths and weaknesses just as everyone else does. At least you know how to interact with people without injuring their feelings, alienating yourself, or making them uncomfortable." He grins, his fingers reaching up into John's hair. He tugs at it, bringing John's head up so that he can press his lips to John's.

"Yeah, but that don't help the grades, does it? Since that's all that seems to matter." John sighs a little and kisses back, placing his hands on the male's hips. "You're fine, people are just dicks. Do you really care if people you don't even like are uncomfortable?"

"I do care somewhat." Sherlock shrugs. "Not enough to change though. I suppose that's a problem." He purses his lips. "I think you will do fine at this, especially with my guidance." Sherlock smiles and traces John's lips with his index finger.

"Huh." John eyes him and tilts his head. "I suppose everyone cares some about what people think of them." He murmurs, kissing the male's finger and smiles. "Nah, it's not really a problem. I like it how you are."

"You do realise you are the only person who sees... This side of me." Sherlock says, gesturing to his body language and where his other hand rests on John's jaw. He smiles, then presses a kiss to John's forehead. "I'm much colder with most people. Polite to those who I have not interacted with previously, cold with those that I have interacted with usually, and tender with you. I suppose my brother receives some tenderness. But it is received in teasing words and battles of wit, rather than through compliments and gestures of affection, usually. I guess now that he's gone, I'm more affectionate than I was previously."

John listens carefully, eyes on Sherlock's as he speaks and leans into the touch of lips on his forehead. "Everyone's like that though. Acting... different with certain people, guess I'm just one of the people who's gonna see this side of you. I have different ways of acting around different people too." He shrugs a little. "It's human nature."

Sherlock smiles. "My point is that you like /this/ side of me. You probably wouldn't like me when I interact with others." He shrugs a little, his teeth tugging at his bottom lip.  
"I think I could handle it. Cause I suppose I know you have this side... and from what you've just told me I don't see why I wouldn't like you in different situations." John's fingers trace a pattern across his chest gently.

Sherlock nods. "Alright... That's... That's nice to know." He says awkwardly, uncertain as to how to explain how relieved he feels. Sherlock smiles at the soft pattern, then simply pulls John towards himself for a hug. "I'm glad." he whispers against John's neck.

John laughs as he was hugged and plasters a smirk on his lips. "Dude ... the amount of chick flick moments we've had is really hurting my testosterone levels. I think my dick is shrinking."

"I doubt that." Sherlock responds, raising his eyebrows. He stays where he is, releasing John but keeping his head on John's shoulder, and pressing a kiss there. "How is it that our study sessions always end up as conversations about us?" He asks quietly, his lips brushing against the rugby player's skin.  
John snorts, enjoying the kisses and sighs. "I dunno. It's not something I particularly enjoy... too much... emotional crap." He says, refusing to recognise that any emotion is really involved.

Sherlock smirks, seeing passed John's words. "Sure," he responds, nibbling at John's neck. "But you still allow it." Sherlock shifts back a little to search John's eyes. "I'm still not sure why."

John rolls his eyes a little. "I dunno. I do a lot of stupid shit. Could be a lack of better judgement." John sucks in a little breath at the nibbles, and licks his lower lip.

Sherlock chuckles. "You're so sensitive." He says, leaning forward to let his lips rest at John's pulse point. He teases at the spot with his teeth and tongue, then murmurs, "Very sensitive. Maybe that's why I can't keep my hands off you when we're alone."

"I'm about the least sensitive person I know." John protests a little, a satisfied sigh falling past his lips at the male's teasing. "Maybe you just like touching me cause I'm hot?"

"Sensitive as in your skin is sensitive, you dolt." Sherlock says without any real malice. He teases at the skin more, enjoying the little sounds John makes. He moves his head up, pressing his lips in small pecks up the side of John's neck to just under his jaw.

"How the fuck is skin even sensitive? Soft and smooth yes, but sensitive?" He snorts and drags his fingers up to the male's hair, turning his face once the male was at his jaw to kiss his mouth gently.

"Sherlock kisses back with soft, slow movements of his lips, and then pulls back to reply. "Well, there are these things called neurons..." Sherlock teases. "And besides... I think you get the idea." He smirks, and then leans close again. "I like it when you mess with my hair." Sherlock informs the other male, then leans in again for another kiss.

John huffs. "I'm not sure if all the smart stuff is a turn on or off." The male laughs a little, and tugs at the boys curls a little. "I like your hair, it's thick enough to grip onto." He nods and kisses back, gently exploring his mouth.

Sherlock can't help but break the kiss as what John said registers. "I like it when you grip onto it as well." He smiles again and then tilts his head to finally kiss John soundly, firmly on the mouth.

"I guess it's lucky for both of us, then, huh?" He grins and plays with the strands, kissing back thoroughly and expertly, but not in any rush or hurry.

As Sherlock kisses John, he allows his emotions to sink into the kiss, cradling John's face in his hands where he usually would have ran them down his chest. He opens his mouth to the blonde, his lips trying to allow John to give him what he can't give with words.

John's heartbeat speeds up a little, and he opens his eyes to look at the male as they kissed, the touch on his face electric, and he accepts all the kisses as they are given, not sure what to make of them but he was not about to stop him.

John's cinnamon smell invades Sherlock's nose, and he lets a happy noise escape into John's mouth. He feels deliciously right and warm... Good. Sherlock's hands travel into John's short blonde hair and he deepens the kiss with a sweep of his tongue.

John enjoys the feeling of Sherlock's fingers in his hair, the tongue in his mouth making him release a soft breath which he didn't realise he was holding, his gentle fingers running down the skin of the back of the male's neck.

Sherlock soon realizes that he needs this, the touch of tongues, lips, and hands. He needs it in a way similar to that of water or air. At the realization, he breaks the kiss and pulls away, trying to clear his head. He turns away from John and does his best to find a when or a why that could tell him how this happened.

John frowns when the male pulls away, his face confused. "What's wrong?" He licks his lips, looking at the males face even though it was turned away, fingers still on his neck.

Sherlock shrugs defeatedly. His mind draws a complete blank as to how he came to feel this strongly for the other boy. "I don't know." He responds. He turns back to John, then rests his forehead against John's. "I don't know at all." Sherlock stands, tugging John after him. He grips John's hips and then aligns their bodies flush against each other before kissing John with all of himself, every thought, every emotion.

John's confusion was still clear as their faces were so close to one another, a soft gasp falling from his lips as their bodies aligned so perfectly, the kiss throwing him off a little but he kissed back until he was at a loss for breath and needed to breathe, blue eyes on the male. "That was... different." John frowns, as he had never been kissed just like that before.

"In a good or bad way?" Sherlock asks curiously, his scientific mind grabbing at threads. He trails his fingertips up John's sides, their bodies still pressed together. He licks his lips, chest rising and falling rapidly as he waits for John's answer.

John laughs a little. "I dunno, good I think?" John leans into him with his whole body, enjoying the touch, his own breathing quick and leans up to place a smaller kiss on his lips. "But I'm surprised that the Sherlock that knows everything... doesn't know something."

"How could I know what you're thinking when you yourself do not? It was good for me." Sherlock says, then tilts his head a little to press a tender kiss to John's cheek. He smiles at John, tightening his grip on the boy's waist.

The blond rolls his eyes a bit and smirks. "Looks like we're not getting much studying done, huh?" He teases, leaving the other issues alone and leans in to drag his tongue down the boy's neck, and hums in appreciation.

Sherlock opens his mouth to respond to John, but words fail him as he shudders at the sensation of John's tongue. He tilts his head to the side to further expose his neck, his hands gripping the fabric of John's shirt.

John drags teeth against skin, breath ghosting over the moistness his mouth was leaving, as he ran his hands down his shoulder-blades and pressed his body into him, the heat affecting him greatly.

"John, fuck, what--" Sherlock cuts himself off with a breathless gasp, his hands gripping at John, holding on for dear life. John's teeth leave him shaking, unable to say or do anything besides hum deep in his throat.

John moves his mouth up to his jaw, then to his mouth and bites on Sherlock's lower lip. "So you like it when I use teeth, huh?" He murmurs and runs his tongue over the bit of skin he'd nipped at.

Sherlock sucks in a breath at John's motions, and responds with a "Fuck. Yes." He licks his lower lip as John's tongue slides over his skin, and can't help but pull John even closer. His right hand moves up from John's hip, and grips at the fabric between John's shoulder blades.

"I thought you didn't approve of cussing." He breathes against his mouth, their lips barely milimeters apart as he was pulled closer, a sharp intake of breath at the hands on him, enveloping in such a way that he felt like his whole body was on fire. "Can I stay the night?" John looks him in the eye then, his voice not above a whisper.

Sherlock stills at the question, then tilts his head back to search John's eyes. "Of course." He says. He smiles then, and purposely runs his hand down to grab John's ass for a small moment. "Of course." He repeats, winking.

John squeaks a little as his ass is grabbed and laughs. "Lemme just let my mother know I'm not dead then." He smirks and takes a step back, hand cupping the male's crotch as a tease, and winks, before going to grab his phone.

Sherlock nods, and struggles not to react to John's hand. He succeeds partially, and slumps into his chair, embarrassed. He huffs slightly, jokingly, and waits as John talks to his mother, making lewd gestures at him the entire time.

John leans against the wall as he spoke on the phone, eyes on the male and an amused expression crossed his face as he ran his fingers through his hair. Once the conversation was done, John doesn't move over to him, just grins a little. "You are so immature ... who would have thought, hm?"

Sherlock smirks. He shrugs and responds, "Oh, it's fairly well known that I have a liking for the over-dramatic, or childish." He laughs. "At least with my brother." He unfolds from the chair and ambles slowly to where John leans against the wall. He steps one of his feet in between John's, using his knee to nudge John's legs apart so that he can rest his leg between them. He tilts his hips forward, so that only their lower halves are pressed together. Then, he waits.

"I've never met your brother, so I wouldn't know how you act around him." John shrugs and watches with amused eyes the male approach, his breath hitching a little at his actions. He caught his own bottom lip between his teeth and ground his hips against the male's, very willing to play this game.

Sherlock grinds right back, his breath huffing out. "We already fucked once today. So why does it feel like I've been waiting for weeks?" He raises an eyebrow quizzically, letting his fingertips trail slowly up John's arms.

"Because ..." John smiles up at him. "Sex with me is just that good." He winks, clearly a tease as he runs his fingers along the male's abdomen, slipping them under the fabric of his shirt.

"Because ..." John smiles up at him. "Sex with me is just that good." He winks, clearly a tease as he runs his fingers along the male's abdomen, slipping them under the fabric of his shirt.

"Well, aren't we a bit cocky?" Sherlock says teasingly, feeling chills at John's warm hand on his abdomen. He smirks. "And you want this just as much as I do, Mr. Can I Stay the Night." His hands travel back down John's arms, and then he slips his hand flat against John's hip, fingers pressing into the skin there.

"I never said I didn't want it." John shakes his head, "I just said that I'm good at what I do. That's hardly cocky." He chuckles, and runs his hands further up his chest, under the fabric of his shirt. "I don't have to stay ..."

Sherlock shrugs. "You could leave. But that wouldn't be very fun." He smiles. "Could I lead this?" Sherlock asks, leaning forward to press his lips against John's neck.

"No, it wouldn't." He agrees and tilts his head to give him more access to his neck, closing his eyes at the feeling of lips on skin. "Do whatever you like to me ..."

Sherlock kisses up John's neck to just below his ear, then says quietly, "Oh, I will." Sherlock tugs at John's earlobe, his hands pressing slow circles into John's hips. His hands move up, and he tugs John's shirt off before leaning his head down to suck at John's collar bone.

John shivers at the words coupled with the kiss, simply melting into him, allowing him to do what he will, a loow moan passing his lips at the sensation to his collarbone. "Ahhh ... That's so good..." He breathes, knowing there will be a mark left there but he doesn't care so he wraps his arms around his neck to pull him closer.

Sherlock smiles and continues sucking at the spot, his tongue running over it a couple times once he finishes. "Mmmm, John, you're sexy when you submit." Sherlock says, his lips brushing against John's chest with the words.

John's breath's come out faster and he laughs lightly at the words, however they did send a shiver down his spine. "You know just what to say to a boy, Mr Holmes." John smirks bringing his hands to the male's face, fingers tracing the sharp angles of his jaw. "But I like to think I'm sexy all the time."

Sherlock smile rakishly and nods. "True. However, this is an especially attractive look for you." He winks, trailing his fingers up John's hips before resting them at the rugby player's waist. Sherlock licks his lips, then tilts his chin up to catch at John's jaw.

"Don't get used to it." He winks and presses his hips further into his touch, closing his eyes and baring his throat to the male. John's hands slide all the way down his chest and under his shirt, gently catching the skin there with his nails. "I don't know why you still have your clothes on..." John snorts and tugs at the boy's shirt to take it off.

Sherlock helps John remove his shirt, then immediately presses his bare chest with John's. He growls low in his throat, then runs his fingers up John's stomach to his chest, teasing and tugging at his nipples.

John grinds his hips against the male, a low whine in the back of his throat at the teasing. "You're a tease." He breathes and brushes his lips against his in an open-mouthed kiss, his own hands on the male's chest and fingertips running down his sides in fiery motions.

Sherlock's chest rumbles in approval, and he noses at John's jaw line. "You love it." He responds. His nails trail over John's skin, and he rolls his hips against him.

John brings his lips to his neck and kisses on his pulse point, soft breath brushing over skin, a low moan at the feeling of nails and hips against him, his arousal obvious through his trousers. He feels weird about all the sensuousness, as this was supposed to be just sex, yet they were acting more like lovers. But John's mind was too clouded to consider that now, as he placed more kisses on his neck. "No, I can't say I don't love it."

Sherlock groans at John's lips, his hips bucking against John's. he reaches between them, his long fingers slowly undoing John's trousers before he undoes his own. He bares his throat to John, relishing the feeling of his lips trailing hot and wet up his neck.

John allows for his trousers to fall, eyes cast down as Sherlock's fall too, their bodies almost naked, much like they had been a mere few hours ago, the baring of the throat was an invitation for John to take and taste, tongue and lips enjoying the sensations as he slid his hands around his body and under his underwear, hand cupping his ass as he pulls their hips together hard needing more.

"No, not so fast." Sherlock says, wanting to tease John further. He pants as John works at his neck, the hand on his ass adding to his pleasure. He slowly, so slowly, reaches between them to tug lazily at John's erection.

"All the slow feels ... weird." He admits in a soft breath, groaning loudly at the touch to his erection, his body craving the touch. He moves to kiss his mouth, needing to taste, his hips sub-consciously moving into the touch.

Sherlock chuckles. "The more teasing now, the better the orgasm later." Sherlock then kisses John with abandon, his thumb brushing over the tip of John's length. He pulls back, and then taps both of John's legs, indicating that he wanted them around his waist.

John huffs, knowing the male was right and kisses him back, happily obliging as he clings to his neck and wraps his legs around his waist, making him taller than the other male for once.

Sherlock grins at John's willingness. His hands grasp at John's sides, and he nudges his nose against John's neck, seeking the cinnamon and sex scent that he's grown so accustomed to. He bites at John's neck then, and holds his hand in front of John's face. "Do as I did earlier." He orders quietly.

John shivers visibly at the bite on his neck, and eyes the hand in front of him, moving one of his own hands to grip the fingers between his. "Whatever you say..." Meeting Sherlock's eyes he brings the fingers to his mouth, sucking them in seductively with a groan, wetting them with his tongue.

Sherlock smirks, and then groans with want as John wets his fingers. "Mmm, you suck fucking sexily." He says, tugging at John's nipple with his right hand. He keeps his eyes on John's, biting his lip in arousal.

John grins at the sound of the words, and once he was done he licks his lips, a strained breath released from his mouth at the pleasure of his touches. "I did all that work getting those fingers wet, you better put them to good use." He purrs, his blue eyes dark with lust.

"Don't you worry, I will." Sherlock responds, shivering with lust. He brings his finger down around John, pressing just the tip in. He keeps it shallow, swirling his finger inside the first tight ring of muscle, while letting his lips trail down to John's collarbone and sucking at the blush-colored spot he had created minutes earlier.

John holds his breath as the finger was pushed in, a low groan at the foreign sensation that he never even dreamed he would enjoy. His breath comes quicker as his neck is sucked, moving his hips to try and get the male's finger deeper. His mouth parts slightly, a flush covering his neck and chest at the heat between them.

Sherlock grasps John's hip to keep the boy from taking more of his finger. "In due time, Impatient One." He teases, swirling the finger around in the first inch. Then, he pushes it in further, pressing up against the top wall. Sherlock sucks at John's collarbone, adding little licks and nibbles to create his own mark on John.

"I can't be patient when you're fingerfucking me." John groans, threading his fingers through Sherlock's hair and pulling him closer as the mark was sucked into his neck, his hips moving without his permission. "Fuck ... please..." He moans, needing more than he was getting, the slow pace driving him insane.

Sherlock smirks at John's plea, keeping his movements slow and steady. "Soon." He says, trying to placate the blonde. Sherlock pushes his finger all the way in, curling it upwards to press against the bundle of nerves. He teases at the spot, pressing against it and then sliding away from it, wanting to drive John crazy.

The contact with his prostate has the blue eyed male gasping as he clung to Sherlock, only wanting to be closer. Once he removed his finger from the nerves, John tried to follow them, to get the sensation back and he was going crazy. "Oh God ... Sherlock..."

Sherlock chuckles and slips his finger out before adding his second and starting the whole process over. Soon, both fingers are fully inside John, and he hooks them occasionally to brush against John's prostate before sliding back from them. He thrusts his fingers slowly into the blonde, his breath quickening as he realizes just how much he is affecting John.

John's eyes are kept closed, mouth slightly parted as he almost held his breath, hips bucking every time the male touches his prostate. The hooking of the fingers makes waves of pleasure shoot through his body coupled with loud moans of the male's name, as well as curses for teasing him this way. "Sherlock I need you." He whispers, eyes on the dark haired boy as he leans in to kiss him.

Sherlock kisses him back dirtily, hooking his fingers every so often as he tugs at John's lower lip. Eventually, he pulls back for air, still close to John. "Do you?" He asks teasingly, then thrusts his fingers hard against John's prostate just to mess with him. Sherlock pulls his fingers out and wets his member before positioning it at John's entrance. "I think you're ready." Is all he says, eyes latching on John's as he awaits his response.

John's legs tightened around Sherlock's waist, needing the sweet friction that he could provide him, gasps leave his mouth as he was teased, and there was a low growl in the back of his throat, before it turned to a whine of relief when he was deemed ready. "You ... are going to regret this later..." John promises and clings closer to him. "I've been ready for ages, get your dick inside me."

Sherlock shrugs, then presses just the tip into John, smirking at the so-often obnoxious boy begging him. "Tell me you need me." He growls to John, tilting his hips in and out in movements so shallow that only the head of his length pushes into John. "Tell me." He repeats quietly, aqua eyes latching onto blue ones.

John's prepared to feel filled, and a frustration flows through him as the male doesn't give him what he wants. The motions only drove him crazy and John needed more as he dug his nails between the male's shoulderblades and leaned into his ear, his breaths quick pants. "I need you." He starts. "I need you so much it _hurts_." He meets his eyes, his own wide with want and need and lust.

Sherlock moans in approval, allowing his length to move further into John. The teasing is a slow torture for him, but he wants to hear John say this, to see John shake apart because of him. "Good." He says, licking his lips. "Now tell me again if you want more." He smiles, his hands right at John's waist.

John's body shakes as he tries to move his hips in an attempt to get the male in deeper, a loud groan falling from his lips. "Fuck ... Sherlock ... you're killing me." He begs and leans in to kiss his mouth and sucks on the male's tongue for a moment, eyes on his. "I want more. I want you to fuck me." John breathes and licks at the boy's lower lip. "I want you to fuck me nice and slow, then hard and fast, and God help me if you don't get that dick in deeper right now I will finish the job myself."

Sherlock shudders at John's ministrations to his mouth, then smiles and rewards John by pressing himself all the way in. "Ask and you shall receive." He murmurs against delicious lips, slowly moving his hips back an forth for John. He groans at the sensations, then catches John's lips with his own.

John's body shudders as he finally got what he wanted, a low moan in his throat as they kiss. He moves his hips along with the male's, tightening his legs around his waist to pull himself in closer and deeper. "Yes... Oh God ... Right there..." He gasps as he hits a spot that brings sheer pleasure to him.  
Sherlock keeps the angle, hitting against the bundle of nerves which bring John such pleasure. "Fuck, so tight." He moans, grasping at John. "We should... Do this... More often." Sherlock groans out between stuttering breaths. He presses his lips against John's once more, seeking the high they bring with them.

"Sherlock." John moans his name, moving along with him, arms tight around his neck. "As in sex?" John huffs a laugh, "This is the second ... time today." He breathes and kisses back hard, devouring the other boy's mouth with his, fingers trailing into his hair and tugging at the dark strands.

Sherlock moans at the kiss and fingers in his hair. "As in you.... Ahh, fuck John... Bottoming." He says between touches of their lips. His hips still move slowly, his arms now pressing John into the wall.

John nods and licks into his mouth, taking and taking. "We can talk about that later ..." He whispers, the wall flat against his back. John starts to move his hips just a tiny bit faster. "Please ... please Sherlock..." He begs, the pleasure so constant and his erection was rubbing against the male's stomach, his chest heaving as he attacks the male's mouth more and takes everything that Sherlock gives.

"Fuck John, you begging is killing me." Sherlock pants, allowing his lips to be taken in a kiss so fulfilling. He swivels his hips harder and slightly quicker, ramming against John's prostate as he moans out the male's name.

"Fuck! Fuck ... I need to come ..." John digs his nails into the male's shoulders, the attack on his prostate making him cry out in pleasure. "Make me come ... please ..."

The nails in his shoulders make him growl, his head falling so that he can bite at John's collar bone. "Come for me baby." He moans harshly, his hips going erratic.

At the words, it only takes a couple more hard thrusts inside him and he was coming hard, his legs tightening around him and the male's name on his lips. His body was shaking as he held onto him, finding his lips for a kiss.

Sherlock catches John's lips and practically devours them, the kiss bringing him over the edge. He spills himself into John, groaning against John's mouth as he shudders with pleasure. The tightening of John's legs around him make him feel deliciously wanted, and he sweeps his tongue into the blue-eyed male's mouth.

John kisses back with a passion, a low groan escaping into the air as the male comes and he stills, his breath coming out in pants. He moves away from his mouth and touched their foreheads together, swallowing hard, not feeling like he needed to say anything as their breaths mixed.

Sherlock felt special, like for once perhaps John was thinking similarly to him, as he and John looked into each other's eyes and breathed into each other. He has no words to describe how he feels in the moment, and so chooses to say nothing at all. He gently disengages himself from John, settling the male back onto his feet, feeling strangely like the male was breakable and needed to be handled carefully.

John slowly unwraps his legs from around Sherlock's waist, standing on unsteady feet and holding onto him for a moment as he catches his breath. The moment feels much too intimate, making the flush on his cheeks and neck even more prominent. He laughs a little. "That was ... definitely something." He unwraps his arms from Sherlock's neck and looks up at him.

Sherlock nods, understanding what John meant. "Yes it certainly was..." He says, still close but moving back to breathe a little. The air between them almost feels too warm, and he feels blood warming his face and throat.

John looks down at his hands for a moment, and moves a hand to gently wipe his come off the male's stomach, suddenly becoming animated as he had been before. "I think I need a shower, I've got come all over me." He snorts and cocks an eyebrow for a second, but really feels like he needed the heat washed off him.

Sherlock nods and smiles. "You know the way." He says, pointing down the hall. He pulls up his pants and trousers, rumpled and warm. Then the brunette moves into the kitchen to wash his hands off and dry them on a towel.

John nods and moves to go to the bathroom, taking a moment to breathe as he turns the hot water on to scalding. He doesn't know how long he is in there, just letting the water flow over him. Once he is done, he dries himself and wraps a towel around his waist. He then goes in search of his clothes and slips back into them. "All clean." He nods with a small smile.

Sherlock smiles. " I think I'll do that as well. I feel too... Creased." He says, gesturing to his clothing.

"Yeah, go for it." John nods and eyes him for a moment. "I'll just watch some TV while you shower." John bites his lip and sits for a moment until he hears the water running. His heart speeds up but he gets up, picking up his things quietly. He slips into his shoes and shuts the front door silently behind him, turning off his phone before he gets into the car and drives home, a heavy feeling in his chest.

Sherlock showers slowly, savouring the warmth. Once he gets out, he slips on a pair of pyjama pants and pads down stairs. He finds an empty living room and shrugs. He'd expected this and knew John needed some space.

The moment he gets home, John avoids his mother's questions. The next day he'd avoid the male at school. As far as he knew someone was throwing a party, so he made a mental note to get smashed and forget everything. Slipping into bed, the blonde falls into a restless sleep hours later.

Sherlock mindlessly watches telly for a few hours before sinking into a dreamless sleep. He sleeps in, his alarm upstairs doing nothing to awake him downstairs on the couch. When Sherlock finally awakes, he rolls off of the couch and onto the floor. He feels bleary, then moves to get some water, his mouth feeling gummy.


End file.
